Untouched
by augiesannie
Summary: Rilke wrote, "For one human being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the work for which all other work is but preparation." In flight from a dark and dangerous world, bound together by circumstance, but kept apart by private burdens of pain, regret and sorrow, can Maria and Georg find their way to each other?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: PROLOGUE - ELSA**

"Elsa. You _cannot_ be serious. I simply do not understand."

"What is it you don't understand, Georg? I think I've made myself reasonably clear."

Elsa reached for the gleaming silver tea service that sat on the low table between them and poured out a cup, adding his preferred squeeze of lemon. Wearing a full-skirted navy silk dress and a rope of creamy pearls at her neck, she exhibited her usual elegance and poise, although Georg thought he detected a slight tremble in her manicured fingers as she handed him his tea.

He waved the cup away and rose to pace back and forth in front of the marble fireplace.

"What I don't _understand,_ Elsa, is your timing. We've known each other for a year, and it wasn't very long after we met that you began to hint at marriage – don't you try to deny it, and I won't deny that the idea made sense from the start, even though, naturally, it took me longer to come around. You'd been widowed for a decade, while it had been only four years for me, and there were the children to consider as well. But after you issued your ultimatum – by _telegram_ , for God's sake – I did as you asked. I brought you to Salzburg, I introduced you to society here, we announced our engagement the next day, and now – _now_ you decide to call things off? What's all this about, Elsa? There's got to be something you're not telling me."

He watched her carefully, trying to get a glimpse of what lay behind the composed mask he'd come to know so well. To know, and even admire, the way she had learned to hide her grief and get on with her life, even if that life was focused on the shallower pursuits. Although he didn't much care for her gay parties or shopping habit, she did share his love of music and art, was a charming and easy-going companion, and had readily agreed with him that their forthcoming marriage, while likely to be quite satisfactory for both parties, would never yield the same measure of joy or contentment as their first marriages had. No, Elsa hadn't asked him for anything he couldn't be expected to give her.

"There's no big secret, Georg darling. And anyway, it's not just one thing."

Georg was surprised to find he felt less disappointment or pain, than perhaps a bit of damaged pride. Still, he needed to know the truth. After all, Elsa had been the one to bring some meaning back into his life.

"The women," he blurted. "Is that it? Because I told you, Elsa, I put all of that behind me long ago." The truth was, he'd given up his wild ways shortly before they met. But if Elsa wanted to consider herself his savior, there was no harm in letting her believe it.

"Pardon me, Captain." Franz appeared in the doorway. "There's someone here to see you."

"Whoever it is, I'm not at home. Send them away," Georg snapped.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Captain. He's already waiting for you in the library."

"I see. And who, _may_ I ask, is waiting in my library, without having been invited by me to do so?"

Franz did a very poor job of hiding his delight.

"It's Herr Zeller, sir. Now that Anschluss has taken place, he's the Gauleiter, you know. He's come to congratulate you and Baroness Schrader personally on the news of your engagement."

"I don't care if he's the Emperor himself," Georg fumed, "I don't want that man anywhere on my property."

"Georg," Elsa said soothingly, "why don't you let me handle this? Thank you, Franz, I'll be there in a moment." After the butler had withdrawn, she crossed the room and laid a hand on Georg's arm.

"There's no need to make a fuss, Georg. Let me go work my magic on Herr Zeller. I'll charm him out of your library and send him back where he came from in a matter of minutes. You wait here."

Georg muttered his agreement, and Elsa was halfway out the door of the salon when she paused and turned toward him.

"And no, Georg. It's not the women. I _do_ trust you on that count."

Trying to distract himself from the mental image of Zeller invading his library, Georg's thoughts turned to the period before he'd met Elsa Schrader, years during which he'd behaved recklessly, trying anything he could to escape the wretched burden of his grief.

Although Agathe von Trapp's death four years ago had not been a surprise, coming as it did after a months-long decline, nothing had prepared Georg for the devastation that followed. The marriage had been idyllic in every respect, a true meeting of two souls with an unquenchable passion for each other, even after seven children in fourteen years. No one had believed it years before, when Georg von Trapp had forsaken his rakish pursuits to marry Agathe Whitehead, but much to his surprise, the joys of marriage – in bed and out of it - far surpassed anything he'd ever experienced.

He had spent his first year as a widower drowning his sorrows in brandy, while leaving the care of his children to a series of unsatisfactory governesses. The second year brought a different kind of shock: although the pain had barely abated, his body came awake and made certain demands of him, in colorful dreams that haunted him night after night, despite his conviction that he would never love another woman the way he'd loved his late wife. Thinking a change of scene might help, he had escaped to Rome, a place he'd never visited with Agathe, with the surprising result that he found a few hours' relief and even a watered-down kind of joy in the bed of a Milanese countess whose husband had died several years before.

By the time he was forced to return to Salzburg to replace yet another governess, Georg had worked some things out for himself. His irreparably broken heart would be his tribute to Agathe, a sign of his continuing faithfulness to her, but he would allow his body whatever it required to keep him sane and functioning.

Indeed, over the next two years, he did find some consolation in a series of liaisons, each conducted at a discreet distance from Salzburg. Georg had always loved women, and now he was grateful for the mindless release he could find in their arms. Some of the women he took to his bed had been abandoned by husbands who had stopped paying attention to them in favor of mistresses or worse. Others were widows. He was surprised to learn from these women how many marriages were devoid of the passion that had enriched his own, and surmised that the fault for this often lay with not with the woman, but with her husband's lack of skill or patience, and it gave him an odd sort of satisfaction to set things to right. Subsequent correspondence from a few of the married women suggested that, once their eyes were opened to the possibilities, they frequently reconciled with their husbands, much to the utter satisfaction of both parties. And for the widows, at the very least, he brought a measure of comfort to women who had not felt a man's loving touch in years.

It had taken two years, and more than a dozen women, before the appeal of his amorous pursuits began to wane. For one thing, his energy was sapped by the continuing problem of his children, who drove away one governess after another, repeatedly sending what should have been an orderly functioning household into chaos. For another, the last two women he'd gotten involved with – a widow and an unhappily married duchess – confessed to having fallen in love with him, and he'd had a difficult time disentangling himself in an honorable fashion. Georg was not a cruel man, despite his chilly demeanor, and he began to imagine Agathe in heaven, clucking her tongue not so much at his shameful behavior – he thought she knew that side of him well enough to forgive him the bed-sport - as the hearts he was breaking along the way. And despite all the variety, the truth was he was getting bored. Staying madly active hadn't filled the yawning void in his heart and mind, an emptiness so loud it shouted at him.

When he met Elsa Schrader, he thought he'd found a better way forward for himself and his family. He and Elsa had each experienced their share of tragedy, but when they were together, they laughed often and never ran out of things to talk about - although they had never even once discussed love. She wasn't the maternal type, but no one could really take Agathe's place in his children's hearts anyway. Certainly, Elsa could help launch his daughters into society and appropriate marriages, and a governess could do the rest. The right governess, that is; with everything that had happened this summer, and how he had grown closer to his children, he'd have to find someone who would be responsible for their well-being without usurping his place in their hearts. Agathe would have wanted it this way.

Georg couldn't say why, but despite a few tentative inquiries on Elsa's part, he had been avoiding any significant physical intimacy between the two of them, pursuing nothing more than the occasional champagne-fueled kiss. There would be time enough for all of that after the wedding, and he liked to think it was a noble and self-sacrificing way to draw a bright line between the shameless behavior of his forced bachelorhood and the worthy enterprise of his second marriage. It helped that the physical urges that had tormented him earlier in his widowhood seemed to have abated, with the odd exception of his infatuation with the little governess from Nonnberg Abbey. Which, he'd long ago decided, had been nothing more the temptation offered by forbidden fruit.

The clock over the mantel struck the hour and startled Georg from his reverie. Elsa had been gone for a good quarter-hour, he realized. By now, she'd certainly dispatched Zeller. Was she trying to avoid finishing their conversation about the marriage? Well, they had to have it out, one way or the other; the wedding was only a week away and under no circumstances could it be delayed.

He strode impatiently across the foyer into the library, only to be caught short by the sight of Elsa, shoes kicked off and legs curled beneath her at one end of the big leather sofa. She was laughing, her low, musical laugh, with her head tilted sympathetically toward Zeller, who sat at the other end of the sofa, looking as comfortable as his pompous demeanor would allow.

"Ah! Captain von Trapp! Here you are at last." Wearing an insolent smirk, Zeller rose to his feet, but slowly, as though to remind his host that the respectful gesture was purely for show. "I was telling Baroness Schrader that I wanted the opportunity to congratulate you personally on your engagement."

"Elsa," Georg pointedly ignored their guest, "I thought you were going to -"

"Georg, darling," Elsa interrupted him with a brittle smile. "I'm so sorry to have lost track of the time. Herr Zeller was just sharing with me the most _interesting_ piece of news. I can't believe you didn't tell me about it yourself, Georg. I'm sure you meant to. It must have been all the excitement with the wedding, I imagine."

"And what news would that be?" Georg asked, as though he didn't already know the answer.

"I hate to spoil a social call with business," Zeller said, and the smirk vanished, "but we have sent you two telegrams in the last week, Captain. Conferring upon you a naval command at Bremerhaven. What with the announcement of your engagement, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. I'm sure you've been busy, and meant no offense by failing to reply, but now an answer is becoming imperative."

"Georg, darling," Elsa turned to him, her smile unwavering. "What an honor! You don't suppose that since Herr Zeller has gone to the trouble of coming all the way here, perhaps you could give him your answer now?"

Elsa couldn't possibly believe that he would accept. They had been through all of that already! And yet there was something about her smile. . . a year of escorting her around Vienna, and Georg still couldn't reliably read her.

Not that it mattered. He had imagined taking this step in writing, or by telephone, but the moment was here. Georg took a deep breath.

"I am sorry for having inconvenienced you by forcing you to inquire in person, Herr Zeller," he said, as politely as he could, "I will even go so far as to thank your – your _people_ for thinking of me. But I'm afraid I can't accept."

"Can't accept?" The man's eyebrows rose and his little moustache twitched disagreeably. "Can't _accept_? It was not an offer, Captain."

"It's the wedding," Elsa broke in with a nervous laugh. "What Captain von Trapp means to say is that he can't accept right _now_ , because of the wedding, isn't that right, darling? It's only a week away. And then the wedding trip, of course, that's another week on top of it."

She threw Georg a pleading look.

Georg felt a surge of gratitude for her willingness to play along, to buy him a few more days to finalize his plans. They had, in fact, planned no wedding trip. Not to mention that she'd just broken their engagement. Not to mention that Georg would burn in hell before he served in the German Navy, and Elsa knew it.

"Very well," Zeller said grudgingly, "but after the wedding trip, Captain, you _will_ take your place in the new order. Your children – let's see," he drew out a scrap of paper from his jacket pocket – "the two youngest will be at the parish school this year, and the others off to boarding school, is that right?"

"Yes," Georg said, "but I don't see what that has to do with anything."

Zeller folded the bit of paper carefully and returned it to his pocket. "Should you fail to report for duty, it might be difficult for them to keep their places at school. You understand."

"Hold on." Georg hardly knew whether to shout at the man, drive a fist into his face or laugh at him. "You are threatening a bunch of _schoolchildren_?"

"Just making it clear how much the German Navy needs you, Captain. And how much _you_ need _us_. Once again, congratulations to both of you. They'll expect you at Bremerhaven within two days of your return from your wedding trip." The odious little man made an ironic bow and headed for the library door, only to pause and turn back toward them. "Oh, and Captain. Baroness. About that wedding trip. You weren't by any chance planning to leave Austria, were you?"

"We – ehrm - we hadn't quite decided yet!" Elsa said with forced gaiety. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, I do. Take my advice, Captain," Zeller said, and there was nothing comical about the threat this time. "Don't leave Austria. Don't even try. It might not be good for your children. Because while you're away, we'll be watching out for them, of course. And you."

Then he was gone, leaving Georg and Elsa staring wordlessly at each other. The room filled with an oppressive silence that lingered for a minute or two before he forced himself to speak.

"Thank you, Elsa. For playing along. It will buy me some time."

From her seat on the sofa, Elsa gave him a long, considering look.

"It's not going to help, Georg, not really. The time has come for you to learn to be a realist. You'll have to say yes eventually, and you might as well do it without provoking them in the process."

"Are you mad?" Georg asked. "You know I would rather die than go along with them."

"What choice do you have?" Elsa said, her tone of voice more practical and less regretful than he might have wished. "The Anschluss has happened, and as for what comes next? What's going to happen is going to happen. Just don't let it happen to you, Georg."

"I can't serve in the German Navy, Elsa. We've been through all of that already. If you think I'm going to change my mind, you're sorely mistaken. Or is that why you played along with Zeller just now?"

Although she wouldn't meet his gaze directly, there was no mistaking her uncharacteristically sober expression.

"I suppose," she said quietly, "yes, that I was hoping against hope that you might reconsider your position, so that I might reconsider mine."

"Elsa. We talked about it, the night we decided to marry. I thought we agreed about what we would do if it came to this. I told you then and I'm telling you now: I will not bow down to men I despise."

Now Elsa was on her feet, her mouth trembling with emotion.

"But that was _before_ , Georg. Before the Anschluss. Before I saw, first-hand, what they were capable of. Max is gone. Disappeared. Since then, I've been thinking. We could lose everything, everything you worked for, everything we own. No one is asking you to bow down, Georg. Can't you just, well, stoop a little? Oh, Georg, _please_! Can't you see things my way?"

"No, Elsa." His heart went out to her, the way it had to the women whose hearts he had broken, but there wasn't a shred of doubt in his mind. "Not if you're going to see things their way. If that's the reason you've broken things off, then – well, perhaps it's for the best after all."

Elsa slipped on her shoes and crossed the room to where he stood, muttering something under her breath.

"What's that, Elsa?"

"I said, that's not the only reason."

Her other reasons for breaking their engagement didn't matter, not really, but once again, he was curious about the machinations inside that carefully styled blonde head. He raised his eyebrows and waited.

"Dear Georg. You can't marry someone when you're in love with someone else." She gave his cheek a little pat. "Can you?" she added gently.

"In _love_? Of course, Elsa, but we talked about that too. My Agathe. Your Erich. They are gone, much as we might wish it to be otherwise."

She shook her head.

"I'm not talking about Agathe, Georg."

"I don't understand."

Elsa sighed deeply and went over to the French doors that led out on to the terrace. When she pushed aside the lace curtains, it was possible to see the brilliant midday sun bouncing off the lake, and the mountains looming beyond.

"Somewhere out there, Georg, is a young lady. A young lady who is never going to be a nun."

Her words surprised Georg, but they shouldn't have. He hadn't tried to deny it, not to himself, not even to Elsa, the ferocious physical attraction he felt for the little governess, a flame that had flickered to life the day she dressed him down for mistreating his children, had grown stronger after the puppet show, when she'd coaxed him to take a guitar into his arms, and nearly ignited in flames when he had her in his arms at the conclusion of their dance on the terrace.

But in _love_? Certainly not. He'd have forgotten all about Fraulein Maria by now, had it not been for his children's persistent grief. The whole thing had been awkward, not to mention wildly inappropriate, of course, and so it was almost a relief when the girl had run away. He knew perfectly well that he'd encouraged the flirtation and come far too close to the line; he would always feel guilty for that, and for having treated her so rudely when he came to his senses at the end of that dance. If she hadn't run away, he'd have found a way to apologize.

He _had_ apologized to Elsa, who had instantly forgiven him with an airy, "Oh, darling, you'd hardly be a man if you hadn't noticed her. Just imagine the scandal if you'd done anything about it!" He'd been so relieved, so grateful, so eager to put the embarrassing incident behind him that the long-overdue marriage proposal had simply popped out.

Now Elsa returned to his side and kissed his cheek, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I've enjoyed every minute we've had together, Georg. And I do thank you for that. Auf wiedersehen, darling."

And then she was gone.

Georg sat at his desk and stared sightlessly at the polished surface, listening to the scuffle of Elsa's trunks being brought to the foyer, hearing the taxi's arrival heralded with a loud beep of the horn, its departure apparent from the crunch of gravel as it drove away.

Only then did he go to the wall where a small still life hung. Moving the painting aside, he spun the combination until the safe sprang open.

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 **Hello and welcome to my new story. It seems that every story I write gets longer and more complicated, and unlike other people, I can't write as I publish, I have to work the whole thing out ahead of time, at least in draft. Thus the shameful result that when I have a story underway, I disappear into it, completely ignore Proboards, prompts and reviews (hello, excellent stories piling up on ff dot net!) This is my 32** **nd** **TSOM fic, and while I have two others in the pipeline, when this one is over, I'm probably going to take a break and spend time being a better TSOM citizen.**

 **Meanwhile, to try and make up for things, I'm announcing an innovation: the review-guilt-free story. I have gotten so much joy from others' stories, and not repaid the favor with reviews, so while I'd certainly be thrilled to get reviews, I am inviting you to enjoy this one without leaving me one. I won't ask for them and you don't need to leave one. (Although, as Georg would say, you can if you want to.)**

 **A few things to note: 1) this chapter had quite a bit of Elsa, but she is gone for good, the rest of the story will be very different, with lots of M/G angst, FBOFW 2) eventually, although not for a long time, it's going to turn M-rated and disappear from the main page, so follow it if you want to keep up 3) as usual I am going to do some violence to historical fact, please forgive me and 3) don't own, all for love.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Girl

**Chapter 2: THE GIRL**

Inside the safe, everything was in order. Georg checked the train schedules and tickets first. Then he counted the little folders, one for each of the children. He gave an approving pat to the fat envelopes stuffed with currency. Finally, he withdrew the sheaf of notes he'd made and reviewed all of the arrangements, noting with resignation the number of times he'd written Elsa's name in and then scratched it out.

He'd known all along it wasn't going to work. But how could he make it work without her? Zeller would hear about the broken engagement, of course. There was really very little time left to act.

At dinner, the children were subdued. It was remarkable, how well they were doing without a governess. Frau Schmidt reported they were no trouble at all, and there seemed to be no evidence of the tree-climbing, canoe-swamping or other mischief that had occupied them all summer. They read, practiced their music and English lessons, and went for long walks. The older ones watched out for the younger ones, rather than torturing them, and there was very little bickering among them. Georg made a point of spending time with them every day, no matter the press of business, although he found himself making excuses when they asked to sing for him.

Georg knew from the aftermath of Agathe's death that children could be resilient, sometimes disturbingly so, and so he found their continuing sorrow over Fraulein Maria's departure quite troubling. For the first few weeks, he had told himself that their good behavior was merely an effort to forestall the appointment of another governess, or to change his mind about boarding school. But he was starting to worry, and utterly at a loss as to what to do about it.

He drained his coffee cup and rose from the table.

"Liesl. I need to speak to you. In the library."

Fraulein Maria had lectured him countless times about how Liesl was very nearly a woman, and for a moment, he half-wished the little governess could be here as he put her assertion to the test. Liesl was old enough to know the truth, and to be of assistance, but he wasn't sure she could pull the whole thing off on her own. He'd given his children the sheltered, aristocratic upbringing Agathe had enjoyed herself and wanted for them, and now he was going to ask his totally unprepared daughter to take on a task more challenging than anything she'd faced at school or at home. Yet he had no choice: he couldn't manage the scheme without a partner.

She watched him warily while he seated himself behind the big desk and, without preliminaries, launched into the matter at hand.

"I've been offered a commission in the German Navy," he began.

" _No,_ Father," Liesl burst out. "You're not going to-"

"No. I'm not," Georg said, feeling quiet pride at the girl's reaction. "But that means we have to leave Austria. And this house."

Liesl's eyes went wide.

"Tonight?"

"No, not tonight. But in a day or two. Before the weekend, certainly. They don't want me to leave, and they'll be watching me, so we are going to have to engage in some subterfuge. I have a plan, but it must be kept from your brothers and sisters. We will tell them only that I am sending you children on a short holiday before school begins, and you must help them pack a small knapsack each. Only what they can carry themselves."

"I can do that, Father."

He took a deep breath.

"That's not all. Here's what I'll need you to do next," and he went on to describe the next part of the plan to her.

"I _suppose_ I can do that," Liesl said doubtfully.

"You can do it, darling," he said, with a confidence he didn't feel. "You _must_ do it."

They spoke for a few minutes longer before Liesl kissed him good night She was halfway out the door when she stopped and turned back, wearing an uncharacteristically defiant expression.

"Father. You are asking me to do something for the family, and there is something you must do for us in return. You must take us to Nonnberg to say goodbye to Fraulein Maria."

"Come now, Liesl," he chuckled. "I happen to know that the seven of you already tried to see her without success. And not only that, you know that I know it!"

"Oh, but it will be different for you, Father," the girl said confidently. "You're a big naval hero!"

Georg could have told her that wasn't going to make a difference, but then he'd have to admit to the telephone calls he'd made to Nonnberg himself, inquiring without success after the little governess. Not that he could do anything to make up for his rudeness to her in the chaotic aftermath of their dance. If she'd fled out of anger, he deserved that; he just wanted to know that she was safe, unharmed.

"Very well, Liesl. Tomorrow, after lunch. But now that I think of it, there is one more thing. You may wish to – that is – well, it's possible we won't be coming back here for a very long time. You may wish to be sure you have," he fumbled, "a picture. You know. Or some of her things."

"Of Mother?" his daughter smiled sadly, and Georg could only nod in response. Would it ever get easier to talk to the children about their mother?

He stayed up late, sipping the last of the French brandy – no point in leaving it behind for the Germans to enjoy – and pondering the wisdom of leaving his children's fate in their oldest sister's hands.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Follow me."

The tall, sour-faced sister turned away from him and strode down dim corridor so fast that the skirts of her voluminous habit made an audible swish. Georg gave a last doubtful glance at his children, whom he'd left standing in a hopeful little clump in the middle of the busy courtyard, before obediently falling into step behind the woman, who'd introduced herself as Sister Berthe. She was nearly as tall as he was, and Georg had to double his pace for fear he'd lose sight of her as she led him through a warren of dark, narrow corridors, up a flight of stairs, down yet more corridors, through a set of double doors, and across a cavernous reception area that sat empty. She threw open another door and, stepping aside, motioned for him to enter.

"Reverend Mother will be with you in a moment," she informed him, before disappearing.

The last place Georg had ever expected to find himself was in Nonnberg Abbey, let alone in the Reverend Mother's office. Knowing that the sisters led a life of prayer and contemplation, he'd been surprised to find the courtyard, where they'd made him leave the children, bustling with activity. Young women in ugly, ill-fitting clothes stood in knots of twos and threes, their faces somber, one dabbing at her eyes with a wrinkled handkerchief. New postulants, he knew from Fraulein Maria's stories about life at the Abbey, but why so miserable? Despite himself, he'd been scanning the crowd for little governess, until he remembered that if they were able to see her at all, she'd be wearing a habit. He'd been steeling himself for that possibility when the tall, ill-tempered sister had come to collect him.

"You lot stay here. Not a word out of you," she had ordered the children, with a quelling look that he wished he could bottle and take home with him.

Here in Reverend Mother's office, things seemed deserted and oddly quiet. He was surrounded by a silence that seemed not peaceful, but rather full of dread. The room was cast in shadow. The yellow-leaded window allowed only a thin, dreary light, barely enough to illuminate the few massive pieces of dark oak furniture within. Even the air seemed heavy, a mix of incense, old age and damp stone walls. The sudden thought of Fraulein Maria imprisoned behind these walls made his heart twist.

"Captain von Trapp."

The Reverend Mother swept into the room and seated herself behind the desk, in a chair that looked more like a throne. Although shorter and rounder than her lieutenant, she exuded an air of authority Georg recognized instantly. He glanced at the chair next to her desk, but she didn't offer him a seat, so he remained standing.

"What do you want, Captain?" she said abruptly, tapping her fingers on the desk.

"I – well, it's not me. It's about my children, actually." Although Georg had initially written to the Abbey to inquire about a governess, and telephoned several times in the days after the party, he hadn't actually spoken to a nun in person since he was a schoolboy, and he found himself unaccountably flustered. "I mean I promised my children, that is. That I would inquire after Fraulein Maria. I know they've come here themselves, trying to see her, but I was hoping that if I interceded-"

"Captain," the old woman said wearily, "When you called here – six times, I believe - after Maria returned, we assured you that she arrived here safely. We told your children the same thing when they visited. Maria is well, and there is really nothing more for you or your children to worry about. Now," she said, rising, "I will see you out, Captain, and I am going to ask you not to call again. These are very difficult and dangerous times here at the Abbey, and we simply cannot be distracted by-"

Georg mustered every bit of authority he could.

"Reverend Mother. There have been certain developments. You must hear me out."

Her eyebrows arched in surprise.

"I mean, I beg your pardon, Reverend Mother, but – may I speak in confidence?"

He thought he saw the trace of a smile.

"This is not the confessional, Captain, but yes, I can assure you of that."

"The Germans have offered me a naval command," he said, watching her expression grow guarded and then relax as he hastened to add. "I can't possibly accept. Joining them would be unthinkable. But to refuse them will be fatal, for all of us. I've got to leave Austria as quickly and quietly as possible. I wouldn't mind so much for myself, but uprooting my children after everything they've been through-" he paused, conscious that he was letting the old woman assume he was referring to Agathe's death, not the recent departure of their governess. "I promised them I would try to make it possible for them to see her one last time."

Reverend Mother stood abruptly and strode over to the leaded window. She pushed it a little farther open, until a wedge of sunlight sliced across the floor, and looked out for a few moments before turning back to him with a nod.

"Very well, Captain. I'll allow it. She will be brought to see them in the courtyard."

"Thank you, Reverend Mother," he began, hurrying toward the door, but she put out a hand to stop him.

"Not you, Captain. Only the children. I'll send word to her. You stay here."

Georg was left to pace the room, unsure whether he was disappointed or relieved to know that he would not be present for the reunion. He decided that couldn't have borne it, to see her bright hair hidden by a wimple, her lithe form hidden in an ugly habit. Even though Elsa had far overestimated his feelings for the girl, there was no denying what she'd done for his family.

Eager for a distraction to pass the time, when he heard a boisterous clamor rising from below the window, he went to investigate. That was how he discovered that the window overlooked the courtyard where he'd left his children, who were now clustered around their former governess, prancing and whooping with joy. When she stopped to kiss the little girls, he lost sight of her for a moment in the midst of the jubilant throng, but then she stood again and he was able to study her carefully.

She wasn't wearing a habit after all. Instead, she wore a dress better suited for a six-year-old, the rough, faded blue material gathered loosely around a a high waist that hid her willowy curves. She had lost so much weight she looked very nearly gaunt, but her hair had grown out until it curled softly around her face into a halo of curls. The thing he noticed most of all, though, even from far above, was that her sparkle had somehow gone missing. While clearly happy to see the children, there was something tentative about her, a sadness below the surface he'd never seen before. Fraulein Maria had always rushed about as though she couldn't wait to get where she was going next, even when she didn't know where that was, but now she moved slowly and cautiously, as though wary of whatever awaited her.

Reverend Mother bustled back into the office.

"There. That's done. I've ordered some tea for us. They'll spend a half-hour together, and then I've told Maria she must come say hello to you."

The implication couldn't have been clearer: Maria had been ordered to appear, and was probably regarding that order the way he regarded his orders for Bremerhaven.

"Thank you, Reverend Mother."

"Oh, Captain, it's we who should thank you. It's rather nice, to have someone celebrating _something_ around here for a change." The old woman gave a rueful laugh, and for the first time, Georg could see another side of her – a bit of warmth, and a very human weariness. "The Nazis have made their mark here as well, I'm afraid. They appear at our gates at all hours of the day or night, demanding to search the property from top to bottom. In the first days after the Anschluss, they seemed to be following some kind of procedure, but recently, it's turned ugly. They've become disrespectful, profane, even destructive. They were here last night," her face grew grave, and he saw a hint of fear in her gray eyes, "some of the soldiers behaved _most_ inappropriately. Their officers did nothing to stop them, I'm afraid. And so, we're preparing to send the younger girls away. The novices, the postulants, and so on."

Was Maria still a postulant or had she taken her vows?

"Away?"

"They are not safe with those – those _animals_ running wild. Not the postulants or novices, not even the younger sisters. We older ones will remain here, but we are sending everyone else back to their families."

The bunched little groups of girls, Georg now understood, were residents of Nonnberg waiting to be sent home to their families. His stomach churned with anger and disgust.

"As I understand it," he said casually, "Fraulein Maria has no family."

"Y-yes," Reverend Mother hesitated, when she was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. "Ah! There you are, Maria."

OoOoOoOoO

It had been just as she'd expected, seeing the children. She'd tried to draw sustenance from it, to let their joy seep into the empty spaces, but having them here, where she'd felt safely away from all of that, was like tearing the scab from a not quite healed wound: the stinging pain that brought tears to your eyes, the raw, pinkish new thing revealed underneath it that was not quite ready to face the world. Their hugs and kisses were quite pleasant, but Maria found it difficult to concentrate on the conversation that followed, the way children were so concrete, so focused on their daily lives even while all around them, hearts were breaking and the world was falling apart.

So there was Gretl's finger, and Kurt's appetite, and Liesl's traitorous telegram boy to hear about.

"I was looking forward to boarding school," the girl told her, "although now, of course, I suppose we're not going to -" Liesl broke off suddenly.

"Oh, Liesl," Maria said quietly. "You can't use school to escape your problems. You have to face them."

Although wasn't that why she'd fled to the Abbey?

They wanted to sing for her, of course, proud to demonstrate that they'd kept up with their rehearsals. Then, too soon, Sister Berthe came to fetch her for the last part of the ordeal, the part she'd fought hardest to resist.

"Oh, no, Reverend Mother. Please. _Please_ don't make me do that," she'd begged when the old woman had sought her out earlier. "I can't face him."

"Maria, these walls were not built to keep out problems."

It was the same lecture Reverend Mother had delivered when Maria had run away from the villa weeks ago. At the time, Maria had merely been embarrassed by Baroness Schrader's matter-of-fact revelations: Captain von Trapp was in love with his governess, and she – a postulant planning to dedicate her life to God – was in love with him, that was obvious, but so what? He'd get over it soon enough. Men did. Until that moment, Maria had somehow hoped that her feelings for the Captain, like a sweet wrapped in paper, could be kept hidden away and savored in secret until it melted away and she returned to the Abbey with no one the wiser.

But far worse than her girlish embarrassment was the mortifying humiliation that followed. No sooner had Reverend Mother forced her to admit that she was in love with the Captain, that the life she was meant to live might not be at Nonnberg Abbey, no sooner had she summoned every bit of bravado she could and prepared to return to the villa to claim it, than she'd been called back from the bus stop when word came that he had announced his engagement to Baroness Schrader.

Now, her old plans for the future lay in ashes, and she found it impossible to make new ones. Stuck between an old dream that was no longer hers to claim, and a new one she could not imagine, Maria let the days at the Abbey slip by as the memories tormented her, even in her sleep: his deep blue eyes catching and holding hers as he sang so beautifully to his family, his hand on her waist and breath on her cheek when they danced, his icy nonchalance afterward. She clung to these memories and hated herself for it; she loved and despised him, all at once.

She had missed the children dreadfully, of course. Their absence had torn a hole in her heart, but still, she sent back their letters and refused their visits. She could bear nothing that reminded her of him. And now Reverend Mother was asking her to see the children one last time, and worse, to speak briefly with the Captain. Something had changed, though Mother wouldn't say what. The old woman stood in the middle of the deserted postulants' dormitory, and waited for Maria's answer, but her natural air of authority had left little doubt as to the outcome.

"Maria. The sooner you begin, the sooner it will be over with."

"All right, Mother. I'll go to the children now, but I won't." For the first time in weeks, Maria felt a flicker of the old, rebellious spirit within. "I _won't_. I can't face him."

"Maria. Whatever happened between you this summer, from what you've told me, Captain von Trapp did nothing dishonorable. He is a fine man, and a brave one. He – well, I won't go into details, but his request is a reasonable one. As for your future, I am doing everything I can to keep you safe. But if you want me to help you, then _you_ must help me. That's the way it works outside these walls, you know."

So now here Maria stood, outside Reverend Mother's office, limp from the round of teary good-byes with the children, and ready to face the last and most challenging part of the ordeal.

Her mind traveled back to the last time she'd seen the Captain: was it after their dance, when she'd obviously misread the tenderness in his eyes, or after his casual dinner invitation to her? "You can if you want to," he'd shrugged, as though she mattered no more to him than a speck of lint on his sleeve. No, the last she'd seen of him before leaving the villa, after leaving the note for the family, was when she'd peeked into the ballroom and seen him sweep Baroness Schrader into a waltz.

Maria wiped her clammy palms on her skirt and lifted her hand, heavy as a stone,, to knock on the door.

He greeted her with a small, formal bow, his face unreadable.

"Fraulein," he murmured.

"Come, Maria," Reverend Mother said. "Come had have a cup of tea, and I have your favorite biscuits here as well."

There was something almost comical, the way Reverend Mother was trying to hold a tea party while the two of them remained standing awkwardly on the edges of the room, Maria stubbornly refusing to abandon the doorway while he lingered stood by the window.

"No, thank you, Mother. How do you do, Captain?" She might as well get the worst part of it over. "May I be permitted to wish you every happiness? I understand you and the baroness are to be married."

She forced herself to lift her eyes to his face: handsome as ever, with those piercing blue eyes and that noble profile, although he looked uncharacteristically hesitant.

"Well. Actually." He shifted from one foot to the other. "There isn't going to be any Baroness. We've broken our engagement, you see."

"You did?"

A little sliver of sympathy lodged in Maria's heart. Did the broken engagement have anything to do with what Baroness Schrader had told her? But the very idea was ridiculous. The Captain didn't _look_ heartbroken. He looked no happier to see her than he had that first day, when he'd evicted her from his ballroom.

"Yes." He looked warily in Reverend Mother's direction, before continuing. "I was telling Reverend Mother just now, that the Nazis have offered me a naval command. At Bremerhaven."

"But, Captain, you could _never_ -" Maria blurted, and hated herself for feeling rewarded by his fleeting smile.

"You are correct, Fraulein. I cannot, and I _will_ not. I had thought for some time that if it came to it, I would take the children to Italy. Having been born in what is now part of Italy, I have an Italian passport, as do the children. The Germans probably consider my family a distraction, and would be happy to see the children leave the country, but they've got to be convinced that I'm not planning to slip away right behind them, or they'll throw all of us in jail. I can manage to slip across the border on my own, and of course if I had married, then - well, now Liesl is going to have to look like she's in charge of the others when she takes them out of the country."

" _Liesl?_ " Maria asked.

"Exactly," he shook his head, "I'm not sure. Not sure at all."

"Hm. What a shame," Reverend Mother remarked, peering thoughtfully over her steepled fingers, before adding, "Maria could take the children to Italy for you, if you'd like." She said it as casually as though she was suggesting a walk in the Abbey's garden.

"Mother!" Maria gasped.

"I appreciate the offer, Reverend Mother," the Captain said, looking as bewildered as Maria felt, "but I'm sure Fraulein Maria has no passport, and no one can cross the border without one. The Germans won't let her out, and the Italians certainly won't let her in."

"Hm," the old woman paused for only a moment before leaning forward and launching a second missile.

"You could marry her, Captain."

 **OoOoOoOoOo**

 **Thanks to those who have left reviews. I don't own TSOM or its characters, I just love it to death.**

 **OoOoOoOoOo**


	3. Chapter 3: Aigen

**Chapter 3: AIGEN**

" _Mother!"_

Maria could not stifle a scream. Nor could she bring herself to look at the Captain, certain he would look angry or revolted or, worst of all, amused. But when she finally stole a glance at him, he was staring at Reverend Mother, slack-jawed with amazement and confusion.

The old woman ignored Maria's outburst and addressed herself to Captain von Trapp.

"Hear me out, Captain. As your wife, Maria can easily get the papers she needs to get your children safely over the border. Once you've joined them, she can simply return to Salzburg."

"I beg your pardon, Reverend Mother," he said stiffly, "but as it happens, I have decided not to marry again. And if I'm not mistaken, Fraulein Maria plans to become a nun! How on earth-"

"I'm not talking about a real marriage, Captain. Just a temporary arrangement. Once you are reunited with your children, the marriage can be annulled. As though it never existed, in the eyes of God and the law both."

Maria stared at Reverend Mother, searching for any hint of the warmth, kindness and understanding she'd found there over the years, but all that was left was the grim determination in her gaze and the stubborn set of her jaw.

"It just might work," she heard the Captain say.

"You can't be serious," Maria whirled to face him.

"I'm almost out of time, Fraulein. As I say, the Germans are unlikely to believe that I'd send my children to Italy without a responsible adult. I have no other choice, and," he said with a cheerless smile, nodding toward Reverend Mother, "it looks like you don't either. I can assure you, I'll pay you handsomely for your trouble."

"I don't want your money, Captain."

"Then do it for my children. I don't care why you do it, frankly."

As overbearing as ever, he began issuing a rapid stream of orders without skipping a beat.

"I will drop the children at home and then go to the Mayor's office and make the arrangements. The license, the papers. Meanwhile, you, Fraulein Maria, will pack your bags and come to the Mayor's office in a taxi. I'll expect you within an hour."

"Ehrm- shouldn't it be in a church?" Maria asked, latching onto a small detail as though it mattered in the midst of the insanity.

"No," he said curtly, "easier to undo it this way."

"It's all right, Maria," Reverend Mother said gently. "After all, it's only a marriage of convenience. You do understand what I mean by that, Captain, don't you?" she said sternly, looking at him over her glasses.

He fixed them both with a withering stare.

"Yes, yes, of course. You don't have to worry about that. Fraulein, I'll see you shortly."

Without another word, Captain von Trapp hurried from the room.

"Mother, have you lost your mind?" Maria cried. She could not believe that she was speaking to Reverend Mother that way, but then again, she could not quite believe any of this was happening.

"Listen to me, Maria. You've got to get out of here. After the way those men behaved last night, you are not safe here. They're certain to return, if not tonight, then soon."

"Those men aren't going to bother with someone like me," Maria said dismissively, but Reverend Mother only shook her head.

"Oh, but they will, Maria. You are quite attractive, you know."

"Why can't I just go to Vienna, then? What about the teaching job you mentioned?"

"I'm sorry, Maria," the old woman took a deep breath before continuing, "but it's fallen through. I have nowhere else to send you."

"How _could_ you, Mother? After everything that happened? You are forcing me to marry a man I have come to despise!" Desperation made Maria defiant. "And another thing, Reverend Mother. Now that I'm not going to take my vows, I don't have to do as you say. I'm not one of the sisters, or a novice, or even a postulant, not anymore. I know I was the one who asked to stay on for a while and sort things out for myself, but the last thing I need is for you to interfere in my life!"

"Maria," the old woman said, "Do you really think I am doing this to play matchmaker? I am doing this to protect you! And if I can't get you to understand that, then do it for the children. They have been through so much and now they must leave behind the only home they've ever known. From what you've told me, they trust you. You are the closest thing they have had to a mother since their own died."

Maria felt the tug on her heart strings, along with the habit of years of obedience to this wise old woman. Not to mention that she had nowhere else to go. After a long, silent struggle, she bowed her head in defeat.

"Very well, then. If there is no other choice. I'll do it for the children."

"Bless you, my child." Reverend Mother hesitated. "May I give you one piece of advice? If I were you, I wouldn't tell Captain von Trapp that you've decided not to take your vows. It will be – ehrm – less complicated if he believes you are coming back to Nonnberg to become a nun."

"All right, Mother, if you say so," Maria promised, and then she was swept into a whirlwind of activity, a frantic hour in which she said her goodbyes, packed her few belongings, whispered a quick prayer in the Chapel, and climbed into a taxi at Nonnberg's gate. The whole time, she felt like she was caught in some kind of nightmare, one she would surely wake from soon. Only when she arrived in the Mayor's office did she accept that this was no nightmare, but the life she was somehow being forced to live.

OoOoOoOo

Like any little girl, Maria had imagined herself as a bride. Despite the modest circumstances of her upbringing, she dreamed of a long white dress, flowers and a veil, a priest in rich red robes, and the hazy impression of a handsome, adoring groom.

Her real wedding featured none of those things, taking place as it did in a brightly lit office, while telephones rang and typewriters clacked in the background, with two bored clerks serving as witnesses and a groom who looked alternately annoyed and distracted, as though he'd rather be anywhere else. When she missed her cue to respond, he poked her shoulder as though asking her to make space for him on a crowded bus.

"I will," she croaked.

The mayor, having raced through his reading from a creased, soiled piece of paper, looked up long enough to say,

"Give her the ring."

She was trembling so hard that the Captain had to grab firmly at her hand with both of his before forcing a plain gold band onto her finger. It was the first time he'd ever touched her, she thought, if you didn't count the Laendler in the garden, when she'd felt the tantalizing heat of his touch, even though his gloves. Now, his hands were as hard and cold as marble.

"How about you?" the mayor asked.

Maria felt her cheeks burn with humiliation when her eyes, along with the mayor's and the witnesses, were all drawn to the Captain's right hand, which still wore his late wife's ring.

"No," Captain von Trapp said tersely.

"Then you can go ahead kiss her," the mayor said, folding the paper and dropping it onto a nearby desk. Maria felt her cheeks turn even hotter when the man added, "I mean, if you want," but of course, there was no kiss.

The taxi ride back to the villa was undoubtedly the most awkward fifteen minutes of her life. The mountain, she told herself. You're up on the mountain, with a blue sky arching above, and a lark's song is filling the air, and if you listen hard, you will hear the sound of a brook tripping along, and you are dancing across a green meadow.

"You left without saying goodbye," he spat, "even to the children."

The mountain vanished and she was in the back of a taxi, winding through the streets of Salzburg, so late on the summer afternoon that long shadows were vanishing into the dusk as storekeepers locked their doors and gates.

"It was wrong of me," Maria said quietly. "Please forgive me."

"Why did you?"

"Please don't ask me. Anyway, the reason no longer exists."

And it was true. At this moment, the Captain's harsh and uncaring manner made it hard for Maria to summon the feelings she'd once thought she'd had for him. Who could love a man like this?

They sat in cold silence for a minute.

"I'm not any happier about this than you are, you know," he said, drumming his fingers against this knee.

It was a relief to let anger overtake the last trace of mortification she felt for her own situation, or any bit of sympathy over his broken engagement.

"Then why did you agree to it, Captain?"

"Why did _you_ agree to it, Fraulein?"

Because I have nowhere else to go, she wanted to shout, and the Abbey is not really responsible for me anymore, and my job in Vienna has fallen through.

"Only the children," she finally settled on an answer, and then remembering Reverend Mother's advice, "and obedience, of course."

"I thought you had not yet taken your vows."

Time to change the subject, Maria thought.

"Tell me about our plans, Captain, if you wouldn't mind?" but he only flicked his eyes toward the driver and shook his head, and they rode the rest of the way in silence.

Once inside, the villa was strangely quiet. The foyer looked nothing like it had the last time she'd seen it, the night of the party; now it was bare of floral arrangements, and only single lamp was lit. Baroness Schrader and Herr Detweiler were gone, of course, but so were the servants.

"Frau Schmidt left a cold supper in the kitchen," the Captain said. He began to sort through the day's mail. "I've given the whole staff the weekend off. By the time they return, we'll all be gone, and they will be able to say that they know nothing of our whereabouts."

"About the arrangements, Captain-"

"Liesl knows that we're leaving for good, and has gotten everyone packed up, on the pretense of a brief holiday before school begins. The others will be so thrilled to have you aboard, that they won't ask too many questions. Your job is simply to escort them to Italy, where I've made arrangements for you to stay until I can join you."

"But, Captain, aren't Italy and Germany allies?"

He looked up from his task, and for the first time, seemed to regard her with at a tinge of interest.

"Yes," he said somberly, "the ties to Germany are too close for comfort. I wouldn't be surprised if they go looking for me in Italy. There's one of them especially – Zeller – it's personal with him. But Italy is only a temporary stop. Once I arrive, we won't stay more than a day or two, and I have a plan for where to go after that. But that doesn't concern you. Once we leave Italy, you'll be free to return to Austria. Or go anywhere else you'd fancy. As I promised, you'll be compensated for your trouble."

"Are we going to tell them about – I mean, do we have to – ehrm - ?" she fumbled, and was immediately relieved when he shook his head.

"About the marriage? I see no need to. Do you agree? After all, it's simply a temporary business arrangement."

"Right," Maria said. While she didn't like the idea of deceiving the children, it would be far crueler to tell them they had a new mother, only have her vanish from their lives again. She turned to climb the stairs toward the nursery, eager to see her charges again, when he stopped her.

"Fraulein? One more thing before you go."

She stopped and turned back to where he stood at the bottom of the stairway, hesitating, just like he had that afternoon when they'd first argued about his children – the first of many arguments, but the beginning of her complicated feelings for him, too. He looked down at his feet and then up at the ceiling, as though his next sentence must be written there.

"Fraulein. I have not forgotten everything you did for me and my family this summer. And now I cannot manage this escape without you, and so, once again, it seems that I am in your debt. Neither one of us was entirely happy about this arrangement, but here we are. If I was less than gracious this afternoon, I apologize, and I promise that I will attempt to be as civil as possible until the ordeal is behind us. It should only be a matter of a few days. In the meantime, let us at least try to make the best of things. If not for me, then do it for the-"

His last words were lost to an explosion of sound: banging doors, rushing footsteps and cries of happiness, as a swarm of von Trapp children surrounded her, lighting the dim foyer with their joy at being reunited with their governess. The Captain vanished into his study. Maria and the children ate supper in the kitchen and she let them stay up far too late dancing and singing in the old governess' room, keeping one ear cocked for their father's complaints. But there was no sign of him.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Gretl was already asleep when she tucked the little girls into bed, and the others, despite their excitement about the next day's trip, retired without too much fuss. Maria was back in her room, settling on her knees to pray, when there was a knock on the door. She opened it to find Captain von Trapp holding a small cardboard box.

"Captain?"

He was wearing that peculiar garment he often wore on evenings at home, the one that looked like a cross between a dinner jacket and a dressing gown. But this was not the proper Captain she knew from the summer: tonight, he wore no tie, he was unshaven, and a lock of hair hung over his forehead.

"Was there something you wanted, Captain?"

Without asking her permission, he stalked into the room, kicked the door closed behind him and placed the box on the floor. When he straightened up, he shot her an unnerving grin and began to prowl in circles around her.

"Perhaps I just came to see what I've gotten for myself. A wife! I can hardly believe it, but I seem to have acquired another _wife_ for myself. Women across Europe wanted nothing more than to be the next Baroness von Trapp, and you – you, my dear Fraulein, you have won the prize! Why _you_ among all of them should be given another opportunity to fire away at me, _you,_ the only one against whom I am powerless to fire back-" he lapsed into incoherent muttering.

What had happened to the gallant, olive-branch-extending Captain she'd last seen in the foyer? She snatched her dressing gown from the bed and clasped it to her chest.

"Have you been drinking, Captain?"

His crossed his arms against his chest, eyes gleaming wickedly in his unshaven face.

"Only a little, and what if I have? What else should a bridegroom be doing on his wedding night? Other than the obvious, of course, which I made a foolish promise not to-" he stopped his prowling abruptly and peered at her. "You do realize, don't you, that I'd be within my rights to claim what's mine right this minute? There's not a court in Austria who would find fault with me for doing so, no matter what your Reverend Mother says."

Maria's pulse pounded in her ears and she felt a cold trickle of sweat slide down her back.

"It's a good thing for you I'm an honorable man. You don't need to be scared of me, Fraulein. Or should I say Baroness?"

"I'll stick with Fraulein, if you don't mind, Captain," she said, edging toward the door and feeling for the doorknob behind her. "And I'm not scared of you."

"Oh, but you are," he drawled. "You're doing that thing with your chin you do when you're trying to look defiant, but you're secretly terrified." He tipped his chin upward to demonstrate, and then, in a flash, he was across the room and had her boxed in against the door with his arms. He smelled like cologne and brandy and himself.

"You don't like me very much, do you?" he asked.

Maria felt her cheeks turn warm.

"No, I don't."

"But you did. We used to get on so well, and then you ran away." he scowled.

"Captain," she said, trying to keep her voice level, "could you move aside?"

"In a moment," he grumbled. "First, I want a truthful answer from you, Fraulein. You _did_ like me, didn't you?"

She took a deep breath.

"I did, yes, but I don't anymore."

His eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"That _was_ honest," he said admiringly. "I'll be honest too, then. I find you exasperating, but I still like you."

"Is there a woman you _don't_ like, Captain?"

She was just the smallest bit disappointed when he dropped his arms and stepped away from her with a bark of laughter.

"I deserved that. Well played, Fraulein. I suppose it doesn't matter anymore, anyway. Whatever happened in the past, we'll need to put it behind us."

"Exactly," she said weakly. "And so if that will be all, Captain-"

"No," he said, looking slightly embarrassed, "I – erhm – I'm afraid I got distracted. I came here to give you some things for tomorrow."

He bent over to rummage in the box on the floor. When he straightened up, the playful, unsteady Captain had vanished, and he was back to his usual correct self. He handed her a large envelope.

"In the morning, you'll be taking them by train to Milan. The train tickets, the passports, and your instructions are in here. Read them carefully, and then burn them," he nodded toward the stove. "The instructions, that is. Do try not to burn the tickets or the passports, all right?"

"Very well, Captain. Is that all?"

"Where's the ring?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The wedding ring. Why aren't you wearing it?"

"You can't be serious, Captain. I'm alone in my room – at least I _should_ be alone – preparing to retire, and you expect me to be wearing a wedding ring even though the whole thing is a-"

"A sham. I know. I don't care what you wear, or don't wear for that matter," he smirked, "but make sure you're wearing it when you leave for Milan. If anyone questions you, it's going to be hard enough for them to believe it as it is. I can hardly believe it myself."

"And now if you are done with your instructions, Captain,"

"Wait. One more thing."

Now he was presenting her with a small box made of dark, gleaming wood, ornately carved with leaves and flowers.

"I have to travel light, and there are a few mementos I wish to – I would be grateful if you would carry this across the border for me. If you are searched, there is nothing that should cause you trouble." A smile flitted across his face and he lifted a stern finger in mock rebuke. "No peeking, though."

"Of course not, Captain. Now, if there is nothing else you needed-"

"Any questions?" he asked.

In fact, Maria had a million questions for him. Why had he cut her dead at the party? Had she just imagined his eyes on her all summer? What would have happened at the end of their dance if the children had not been watching? Why hadn't he married Baroness Schrader?"

"No, Captain."

"Very well. You won't see me in the morning. Just get them fed and into Salzburg in time for the train to Milan. The instructions will tell you what to do on the other end. You can expect to see me shortly."

"But what if you don't-"

His lips curved in a surprisingly gentle smile. "I will. Don't worry." He turned to open the door, but just before he disappeared into the corridor, he turned back in her direction. "Fraulein?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Thank you and – good luck."

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

 **Thanks so much for the lovely reviews. You know I am giving you a review holiday if you want, right? I haven't even written to thank you individually – too much going on at work – but lots more story ahead! Don't own, all for love.**

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**


	4. Chapter 4: Into the Woods

**Chapter 4: INTO THE WOODS**

Long after her racing pulse slowed, long after she'd locked the bedroom door and left a small light burning for comfort, Maria lay awake, so unsettled by her encounter with the Captain that she was unable to sleep.

Captain von Trapp had always been prone to moodiness, but she had never seen him quite so volatile. Maria's charitable nature kept trying to make sense of his behavior, which had bounced from rude to flirtatious to threatening to businesslike to reassuring, all in the course of a quarter-hour. He was undoubtedly heartbroken, what with being forced to flee his beloved homeland in the wake of the unfolding disaster in Austria. And of course, there was the disappointment of his broken engagement to Baroness Schrader, Maria thought, with a little prickle of remorse at the role she might have unwittingly played in that situation.

But there was a silver lining to the night's events, she told herself: their brief reunion had firmly tipped her heart away from Captain von Trapp. His disturbing behavior made it easier to see that her feelings had amounted to nothing more than a girlish crush, fed by the magical setting of the villa and the warmth of his family's rekindled affections, a crush that had melted away and left a cruel joke in its wake. Although for now, she might be married to the Captain – incredible as that was - it would be for the best when she could be away from him for good.

The next morning dawned hot and sunny. As promised, the Captain was nowhere to be seen. While shepherding everyone through their morning routines and breakfast, Maria talked excitedly of their upcoming holiday in Italy, as much to distract herself as anything else, and she felt a little rush of gratitude to have Liesl as her co-conspirator.

"Why can't Father go with us to Italy?" Marta complained.

"Oh, you know Father, he is ever so busy," Liesl said airily, "and we'll have a better time without all of his rules, anyway, won't we, Fraulein Maria?"

"Your father will join us as soon as he can," Maria laughed, turning to pull the massive front door closed behind her. While Liesl led the group toward the gate, Maria looked upward, scanning the villa's imposing façade one last time, and she felt her throat close with a surprising swell of emotion. When she'd run away weeks ago, she hadn't stopped to think about how much this place, which had so intimidated at first, had come to mean to her. She would probably never see it again, but it would always be in her heart.

The Salzburg train station was extraordinarily crowded. Porters laden with luggage trudged behind scurrying passengers, the buzz of their conversation blanketed underneath a constant blare of announcements. Clutching the tickets in one hand and Gretl's hand in the other, Maria led her crew toward the platform for the Milan train. Hot clouds of damp steam and burning smells filled the air. She tightened her grip on Gretl and double-checked that Friedrich had hold of Marta. Just a few more meters, and the first step in their journey would be complete.

"Fraulein Rainier? Maria Rainier!"

Maria turned to find a small man, his face pinched in a sour expression, glaring at her. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite place him.

"I am Herr Zeller. The Gauleiter."

Zeller? Maria felt a little prickle of unease. Hadn't Captain von Trapp mentioned him?

"Liesl," she said calmly, gently pushing Gretl toward her oldest sister, "Liesl, darling, please get everyone onto the train. How do you do, Herr Zeller? And – ehrm – perhaps you haven't heard," she glanced over her shoulder to be sure the children were out of earshot, "but I am no longer Fraulein Rainier. Captain von Trapp and I were married yesterday."

"So it's true after all!" the little man said, managing to fit more insolence into five short words than Maria would have thought possible. His moustache twitched with amusement. "I had to see it for myself! Weren't you at the Captain's party for Baroness Schrader?"

Maria self-consciously thumbed the wedding ring she'd slid on her finger this morning, like a little girl playing dress-up.

"I was, yes."

"Weren't you the governess?"

"I was, yes."

"And a postulant at Nonnberg Abbey?"

"I was, yes."

"And now you are the Captain's wife? I suppose that when the Lord closes a door, He opens a window," Zeller chuckled. "How fortunate for you, Baroness von Trapp."

Maria felt her cheeks burn with shame. Which was ridiculous of course; she had nothing to be ashamed of.

"How may I be of help to you now, Herr Zeller?"

"I don't suppose that your sudden departure has anything to do with the Captain's commission to Bremerhaven?" Zeller asked. He peered at her intently. "You _do_ know about his commission, don't you?"

"I do, yes, of course. Captain von Trapp and I were in agreement that the children and I would only be a distraction, and so I am taking them on a holiday until school starts," Maria added, offering the alibi they'd worked out.

"Maria? Maria, darling!"

She turned instinctively toward the familiar voice, floating out strong and clear over the commotion on the platform. A moment later, and the Captain was by her side, tucking his arm around her waist in a demonstrative gesture that made her heart skip a beat.

"Zeller, I see you've met my bride. I wasn't sure I'd be able to see her off personally, but here I am, and just in time! Aren't you glad to see me, darling?"

This side of the Captain, so affable and relaxed, did not show itself very often, but after a summer at the villa, Maria had enough experience to know that underneath, he had not stopped observing and strategizing.

"Yes, Cap – I mean ehrm – dear," she stammered, hoping that her downward glance would suggest bridal modesty, rather than acute embarrassment.

"You are sending your family to Italy without you, Captain?" Zeller asked. "After your deployment, it may be months before you're together again, you know. I hope you are not foolish enough to try and follow them!"

"I would prefer my family be out of harm's way, so that I don't have to worry about them while I prepare for Bremerhaven. That is all there is to it," the Captain said tightly, letting go of Maria's waist so abruptly that she stumbled. "And now, Herr Zeller, if you would excuse us for a moment?"

He took Maria's hand in his and bent down. By the time she registered the dry brush of his lips on her cheek, he was upright again, although he kept hold of her hand.

"Come on, Zeller. I'll walk out with you, if that would help settle your mind. Goodbye, Maria."

Just before the Captain walked away, he gave her hand a little squeeze. _Good job_ , she knew he meant, and _good luck._

She squeezed back.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Their voyage to Milan was long and tedious, punctuated by a few moments of drama at the border. Maria couldn't shake the feeling that Herr Zeller would somehow materialize to stop them, but in fact, the Austrian guard barely examined their papers, choosing instead to look apprehensively at Gretl as though she were a large dog rather than a small girl. The older children found this hilarious, but their mirth vanished when the Italians decided to search every one of their knapsacks.

Maria's heart climbed into her throat when the Italian guard unearthed the Captain's carved wooden box from the bottom of her bag and shook it menacingly at her. When she opened the box for him, they both stared at the contents: a photo of a much younger Captain with a beautiful young bride, all blond curls and blushing cheeks, perched on his knee while they gazed adoringly at each other. His Maria Theriesen medal. And two wedding rings, both worn with age: one small and the other larger: it was the ring he'd worn on his finger yesterday. Why had he removed it?

Fortunately, the Italian guard lost interest in the box and handed it back to her with a shrug. As soon as he turned his back, Maria slid the wedding band off her finger and popped it into the little box. Although it was quite slim, it had felt awkward and cumbersome on her hand, and now that they were safely across the border, she told herself that the greater risk was that the children would see it and ask questions.

The central Milan station was mobbed by a sleek, sophisticated crowd who all seemed to be rushing off on matters of tremendous importance. Rumpled and out of sorts after the long journey, Maria and her charges stumbled out of the station into the heat and glare of the late summer afternoon. Before them lay a plaza thick with traffic: long, elegant sedans in black and green, sporty little coupes in red and yellow, boxy white cars bearing the logos of police and other officials. Here and there, sleek pairs of horses pulled stylish landaus and broughams. Over the clamor of honking horns and shrill police whistles, and distracted by Kurt's squabbling with Brigitta and Gretl's irritating whine, it was several minutes before Maria heard it:

"Von Trapp-a! Von Trapp-a!"

The shouted words were barely recognizable. But against the bustling backdrop, it was impossible to miss the dilapidated conveyance or its driver, whose left arm was half-raised in greeting. The little man stood in the driver's seat of a primitive open wagon, the kind one might use to haul crops in from the fields. It was drawn by two tired-looking horses who waited patiently for further direction.

"Stay here," she warned the children, before approaching the cart cautiously.

"Did Captain von Trapp send you?"

"Si, si," the little man nodded stoically. "Capitano."

She waited for him to add something, some words of welcome, perhaps, but he was silent.

"I'm Maria," she tried, extending her hand in his direction, only to snatch it back hastily when she noticed the man's empty right sleeve, neatly rolled up and pinned beneath his elbow.

She thought she saw the barest glimmer of a smile, before he jumped nimbly from the cart, gestured toward the children, and asked her a question she couldn't understand.

"I'm afraid I don't speak Italian," Maria apologized.

He nodded, fixing her with a steady dark-eyed gaze. "Leo," he grunted, using his good hand to thump once at his chest before turning toward the children.

The wiry little man barely came to Maria's shoulder, his close-cropped hair was more silver than brown and his face wore a permanent scowl, but his eyes were kind. With the children, he had a gentle manner, showing the older ones how to use the wheel for a step-stool that helped them clamber aboard. Maria followed behind, lifting the little girls and everyone's knapsacks into Friedrich and Liesl's waiting arms.

And then they were off, rattling slowly across the paved plaza. Huddled with seven children in the bottom of the rickety cart, Maria had her doubts about whether the horses were equal to their task, but she was impressed by the deft and confident strength with which Leo used his one arm to guide the team.

The sun was low in the sky by the time they jounced and jostled their way out of the city and onto a series of successively narrower and more deserted roads. The last of these wound gently upward through a forest of soaring pine trees that pressed in on them from every side.

"It's like a fairy tale," Brigitta remarked, "Why, there's probably an old witch lurking in a cottage just off that way!"

Maria felt Marta's hand tighten in hers. Perhaps she ought to get them singing, that would - but just then, the cart jerked to a sudden stop, angled toward the edge of the road, and Leo, without a word of explanation – not that they'd have been able to understand him – leapt out of the cart, sent a word of instruction toward the horses, and disappeared into the underbrush.

Liesl looked uneasily in Maria's direction.

"I'm sure it's fine," Maria said, pretending a confidence she didn't really feel. Why hadn't she pressed the Captain for more details about his arrangements? The truth, she thought grudgingly, is that the man was possessed of a commanding air that made any challenge to his authority simply unthinkable.

After a moment, Leo reappeared and waved them out of the cart. The country air was refreshingly cool, and it was a relief to stretch their legs after the long journey. Leo reached under the seat and produced three lanterns, two of which he distributed, with another faint smile, to Kurt and Friedrich, before gesturing for everyone to gather their knapsacks and follow him as he plunged into the woods.

They stumbled along a rough path, with Leo stopping to guide them over fallen branches and rocky outcroppings, and pausing every so often to make sure they were still together. For nearly an hour, they hiked in silence, until night had crept in and turned the forest all around them dark, until the birdsong had given way to the low buzz of insects. Maria felt fear rising off the children, knew it from the way Marta and Gretl clutched at her hands while Louisa and Brigitta clung to each other and the lantern-light trembled in the boys' hands when the nearby undergrowth rustled with activity.

"Is that a bear?" Kurt whispered.

Here deep in the forest, even a grown woman could feel afraid of what lay in wait beyond the lanterns' light. Maria was used to being out alone at night on the mountain, of course, but there, with the great sky open above you, it was easy to feel God's reassuring presence. She had just begun a silent prayer when they stopped at the edge of a large clearing, with the sound of rushing water not too far in the distance.

Barely discernible in the dim lantern light was a sturdy stone cottage, windows shuttered closed and with a low wooden porch running along its front. Taking one of the lanterns with him, Leo disappeared inside, and within moments, light glowed from behind the shutters. When Leo reappeared on the porch, they piled inside to explore their temporary quarters while he threw open the shutters and lit several more lanterns.

One big open room appeared to serve as kitchen, dining room and living area. There was a wood stove, an enormous kitchen sink, a long dining table and chairs, a big worn couch and some well-used armchairs. A single bedroom was nearly fully occupied by a massive poster bed, which would do nicely for Maria and the little girls, while the older children had already discovered a ladder that led upward to a sleeping loft, strewn with piles of clean, worn quilts. Maria had barely begun to worry about a return to the outhouses of her youth when she was relieved to find a tiny, clean bathroom as well.

While it couldn't have been more different from the villa, the kitchen seemed reasonably well equipped and stocked, the place was clean, and there was even a battered guitar tucked into a far corner. The Captain really had thought of everything. Including, Maria noted uneasily, a rifle mounted over the door.

When she turned to thank Leo, he had already vanished into the night.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Even in the shadowy forest, morning came early. It helped, Maria thought, that for the children, the rough surroundings and simple food were novel entertainment. And of course, only Liesl knew that this was not a temporary holiday, but the beginning of a permanent and uncertain exile.

By eight, they had breakfasted and set out to explore. Off to one side of the cottage, a long path led to a small, amply stocked woodshed with a comfortable bench parked nearby. The promising sound of rushing water proved a bit of a disappointment; while there was a brook off to the other side of the cottage, it sat at the bottom of a rocky creek bed, several meters beneath a steep overhang, and would have to be approached cautiously.

Once familiar with their immediate surroundings, they followed the creek bed deeper into the forest. After Friedrich and Louisa scared the younger children half to death with their jokes about bears, she sent them on ahead to explore, and ten minutes later, their delighted cries led the rest of the family to a magical sight – a little waterfall, just five or six meters high, where water tumbled from a rocky outcropping to feed the creek below. Maria thought about the Captain: of course, she hoped he was safe, wherever he was, but she was also grateful that he wasn't there to observe as she joined her flock, laughing and screeching, under the icy spray.

It had been a thoroughly enjoyable day, she thought much later, as Liesl and Louisa tidied the remains of their simple supper and Friedrich fumbled at the guitar. The younger children, exhausted by an active day outdoors, were asleep before the sun had even set, and the soon older ones willingly retired to the sleeping loft to whisper among themselves until late.

The next day passed quite pleasantly as well. There were the sun-dappled woods to explore, and the novelty of assembling meals from the larder, with no Frau Schmidt to interfere or assist. Together, Maria and Liesl were able to fend off the others' casual inquiries about their father, and if the girl was nervous about his fate, she kept it to herself.

Sometime during that third night, it began to rain, a fierce downpour that battered the roof and rattled the closed shudders, drowned out only by the intermittent crash of thunder. Maria lay awake, smiling to herself at the memory of another thunderstorm months ago, when fear had driven the children into their new governess' room despite themselves. Now Marta and Gretl lay heavily asleep, curled around her like kittens.

Through the storm's clamor she thought she heard another noise, one that came from inside the cabin: one of the older children, no doubt, awake and possibly in need of her assistance. Careful not to disturb her bedmates, Maria crawled to the end of the bed, just in time to hear a loud crash, as though furniture was being flung about the main room, with a few metal pots thrown after for good measure. That couldn't possibly be one of the children, she thought uneasily, creeping toward the bedroom door. Panic slid through her veins, fed by thoughts of bears, and rifles hanging out of reach over doors.

When she peeked around the door in the main room, her heart began to pound when she saw the enormous figure, backlit by a flash of lightning against the open door. Oh, why hadn't she thought to bar the door against bears?

"Where the devil are the lanterns?" the bear growled.

"Captain von Trapp?" she squeaked.

"Were you expecting someone else?"

"I didn't expect you so soon, is all. You scared me half to death! I thought you were a bear."

"And I'm going to start acting like one very shortly, Fraulein. I'm soaked to the skin, thoroughly banged up, and filthy. I haven't eaten in two days, and I'm dangerously close to-"

"All right, hold on! Just be quiet, please, and don't wake the children. If they wake up and see you now, they'll get no sleep at all, and tomorrow will be impossible."

Maria scrambled to light a lantern, start the stove and put some water on to boil. She turned around to find the Captain tugging off his boots and discarding them, along with his rough jacket, into a growing puddle near the door. Water streamed from his dark hair which lay plastered against his unshaven face, and every visible inch of him – his face, his neck emerging from a rumpled, torn shirt, and his hands – was scratched, bruised or muddy.

"Are you hurt?" she took a step toward him, but he waved her off.

"It's nothing. I am famished, though, if you could please-"

"Of course," Maria said hastily, piling bread, cheese and fruit on the table in front of him and watching him devour every crumb and guzzle three cups of tea afterward. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had sipped wine from the finest crystal and flourished heavy silver cutlery at an elegantly-furnished table, three times a day, all summer.

"How did get here so quickly?" she asked curiously.

"I left later the same day you did. When I returned to the villa, I discovered that Zeller had sent someone to guard me. A little fellow, with a gun twice his size, stationed right outside the gates. I handed him a hundred-mark bill and slipped out the back way, around the lake, and then," he shrugged, "I just went over mountains, one after the other. Crossed a few rivers. Stowed away on the back of a truck or two, that's how I made such good time. And as it happens, I did have to chase off a few bears," he looked up from his supper and grinned.

"But the mountains between Italy and Austria are – suppose you'd gotten lost?"

"I could never be lost up there. Those are Austrian mountains. _My_ mountains," he boasted, reminding Maria of just how arrogant he could be.

"And here I thought you only owned the sea," she muttered under her breath as she cleared away the remains of his supper. But she had to admit to being relieved that the Captain had safely escaped Austria.

OoOoOoOoOOOOOoOO

The children were wild with joy when they awoke the next morning to find their father seated at the big table. He was still dressed in travel clothes, soft trousers and high boots, and the bruises and scratches left from his journey were still in evidence. But he had shaved, and had managed a bath and a clean shirt. Over breakfast, he fended off their questions about his journey with extravagant lies about having ridden an elephant across the Alps.

After breakfast, though, the mood in the cottage grew somber. The Captain waved Maria away with an imperious gesture, tugged at Brigitta's braid and ruffled Kurt's hair before he settled himself into the big sofa, lifted the little girls onto his lap, and broke the news to them, gently: they were not returning to Austria, and would not see their home again for a very long time, if ever. He talked earnestly of his love for Austria and the ugly German threat. He answered their questions honestly – they would not remain in Italy but he could not tell them for sure what lay ahead – and with the strongest possible reassurances that they would remain together as a family and that he would let no harm befall them.

Maria felt a quiet satisfaction at the he trust and acceptance on the children's faces, so different from the sullen disappointment and fear they'd felt for their father at the beginning of the summer.

"Go on now," he shooed them away, "I need to talk to Fraulein Maria." When they had filed out of the cottage, he turned to her, the relief on his face plain to see. But it was more than relief – it was almost elation. Maria was incredulous. Had he no feelings at all?

"Why do you stare at me that way?" he asked.

"Aren't you – isn't it hard for you to leave your home? Your country? If I were you, I'd be heartbroken." Maria flinched in anticipation of a bitter reply, but his buoyant mood was apparently unshakable.

"You _are_ young, aren't you?" he chuckled. "If you haven't noticed, Fraulein Maria, I haven't got much to lose. The villa holds more bad memories for me than good. First there was the children's mother," he said hastily, "and then what happened after-"

He looked out into the distance for a moment, and then his gaze swung back to her.

"I lost my country once already, and now there is no Austria left to mourn, not after the Anschluss. I've put aside enough money that we won't starve. The only thing I have left to do is protect my children, and I have removed them from danger. Having accomplished that, I am content. The rest of it," he waved his hand again, "was already lost."

He didn't mention Baroness Schrader, Maria thought distractedly, but her thoughts turned quickly to her own situation. When this time in Italy was over, she'd return to Austria, but the future she'd dreamed of, as one of the sisters at Nonnberg Abbey, was lost as well. And the Captain was partly to blame for it, although he'd never guess it and she'd never tell. Her mood, which had lifted after three days in the woods with the children, vanished behind a cloud of resentment. How had this happened to her? How had she been torn from Nonnberg and forced to reunite with this man whom she seemed to alternately admire and despise?

Maria reached into her pocket and produced the carved wooden box. "They opened it at the border, you know. I hope you don't mind, but I took the opportunity to put my - our - ehrm - the wedding ring in there. For safekeeping."

Putting her ring in that box had felt like an intrusion, as though she'd barged into a place she didn't belong, somehow, and she waited for the Captain to object, but all he said was "Thank you, Fraulein Maria."

"I hope you got enough to eat," she shrugged.

He was watching her with a puzzled expression.

"I don't mean for breakfast. I mean for getting them here safely."

Folding her arms across her chest, Maria said only, "Speaking of food, Captain, how long will we be here?"

"It should only be a day or two. In fact, I'm going off soon to see to our arrangements. I'll be back before supper," he promised.

And then, with a cheerful whistle and a clump of boots across the porch, he was gone.

 **OoOoOoOoOoOo**

 **Lots of boring setup in this chapter, sorry. Things will start to happen in the next chapter! Also, just keep in mind for the whole rest of the story that I am definitely taking liberties both with geography and history. Thanks so much for leaving me reviews, even though you don't have to. Don't own, all for love.**

 **OoOoOoOoOoOo**


	5. Chapter 5: The Captain

**CHAPTER 5: THE CAPTAIN**

After lunch, Maria coaxed the little girls into taking a rest on the wide front porch. The older children scrambled down a rocky slope to the treacherous-looking creek that ran nearby, flourishing fishing poles they'd found in the woodshed. She kept a nervous eye on them, wishing for the placid beauty of the lake in Aigen.

When the woods around them took on the dusty glow of late afternoon, there was still no sign of the Captain. Maria went to get the old guitar and they spent an hour singing together. It was only when their voices faded into the surrounding woods, that she heard the sound pulsing through the air.

 _CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-_

That was not a rifle shot, Maria told herself uneasily. _Not._

"You keep going," she said, handing the guitar to Liesl, "I'll have a look around."

It didn't take Maria very long to follow the sound around back of the cottage, where she found Captain von Trapp just outside the woodshed, swinging an axe in smooth, powerful arcs. When the thick chunk of wood before him lay in fragments on the ground, he stopped to toss them into a growing pile by his side, set another section of tree limb before him, and resumed the vigorous rhythm, filling the air around him with the cracking sound.

"Where have you been, Captain?"

He looked up with an exasperated expression, familiar to Maria from the many times she'd interrupted him in his study in Aigen, except that now he was no longer the picture of immaculate perfection to which she'd been accustomed. Instead, he was nearly as disheveled as he'd been on his arrival the night before. Below his rolled-up sleeves, his arms were smudged with dirt, while the rest of his shirt stuck damply to his chest. A lock of hair had fallen over his forehead, and his face glowed with effort.

"What is it, Fraulein?"

"I said, where have you been? And when are we-"

He stopped and rested the axe by his side, although shoulders still rose and fell with heavy breaths of exertion.

"It's none of your business where I've been, Fraulein." He took in a deep breath and swiped at his forehead with the back of his free hand. "And to answer your other question, we are not."

"Not?"

"Not leaving, if that's what you're anxious to know. Not any time soon. It appears that we're stuck here, for a week at least." His earlier good mood had vanished; now his face was taut with disappointment and anger. "Leo brought word that my arrangements have fallen through, at least for now. I thought I had everything worked out, but certain things are outside of my control."

From deep in her own well of anger and humiliation, Maria felt a spark of sympathy for the man. She briefly considered telling him to think of his favorite things, but decided that might not work for him.

"I'm sorry, Captain. If I can be of any help-" she extended a hand toward him in a gesture of encouragement.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Are you offering to chop wood?"

"I wasn't raised in luxury, Captain," she flared. "You'd be surprised what I can do."

"Go ahead, then," he said, extending the axe to her.

In new and strange surroundings, it seemed, their battle of wills would continue.

With a sigh of resignation, Maria took up the axe. "Move away, now," she cautioned, and he gave her an ironic grin and stepped back. Placing a thick tree branch on the ground before her, she lifted the heavy axe over her head and let loose. Even though she'd made the beginner's mistake of squeezing her eyes closed, she was relieved to open them and find the branch lying in two pieces.

"Very nice," he said approvingly. "But if you keep it up that way, you'll tear your arm from your shoulder before you've chopped enough wood to cook dinner. Don't stick your elbows out so."

She took another swing, and then another, feeling the damp trickle of sweat gather beneath her dress to chill her skin.

"No, no, not like that."

The next thing she knew, Captain von Trapp had come up behind her and reached around with both arms to adjust her grip on the axe. Surrounded by his sharp smell and comforting warmth, Maria forgot her irritation. She forgot nearly everything, in fact.

"Ready?" he asked.

He wrapped his hands around hers and lifted her arms in the air. For a moment, they were back in the garden, with their arms stretched overhead as they moved smoothly together through the Laendler. Then the axe sliced through the wood one more time and he stepped away from her so hastily she nearly fell over.

"That's how it's done," he said briskly, and began to roll down his sleeves.

"Speaking of dinner," Maria said unsteadily, "if we are going to be here after tomorrow, there's not enough food."

"That's impossible," the Captain said flatly, "I had Leo provision the place for a month, just in case. I thought of everything."

"Leo," she retorted, "has apparently forgotten what it's like to be a growing boy. We've eaten all the eggs, and half of the bread, and I haven't even figured supper out. And you're talking about three meals a day for seven more days!"

He sighed and ran a hand through his tousled hair.

"All right. Tomorrow, I'll go – no. You'll go with me. You might as well know how the system works, and this way, you can tell him what you need. We'll leave just after breakfast, before it gets too hot."

OoOoOoOoOo

Although Gretl had never quite learned to swim, she had developed a powerful kick that she took with her into her dreams. As a result, while the little girl slept soundly by her side, Maria hadn't slept well, at all. The Captain, on the other hand, appeared well-rested, even though he'd spent the night in the floor next to the wood stove, wrapped in a quilt. He'd been up early and had already started the fire up for breakfast.

Soon, they had left Liesl in charge and were heading through the woods, past the waterfall. Around them, the damp forest pressed in on every side, while the companionable chirp of insects filled the cool morning air.

A silence hung between the two of them, an uneasy mix of annoyance and awkwardness that was becoming sadly familiar. With everything that had happened between them, Maria was certain that they'd never return to the easy relationship they'd enjoyed over the summer. Well, not _easy_ , exactly, there had always been that spark of – she dragged her thoughts back to the present and fixed her eyes on the Captain's broad back, just ahead of her. They were climbing sharply uphill now, and she turned her attention to navigating the rocky path and keeping her lungs full of air.

"Careful," he said, turning to extend his hand to her as they scrambled over series of small boulders. "There's a clearing ahead where you can rest. It's not much farther now."

"I don't need to rest, Captain. I grew up in the _mountains_ ," she said, yanking her hand from his.

He pressed his lips together and turned away, continuing the climb in silence until the path leveled out at a little clearing. There, he seated himself on a fallen tree, stretching his long legs out before him.

"You probably took the long route when you hiked in. This shortcut reaches the road in half the time, but it would have been hard for the younger children to manage," he explained. "Leo will be waiting for us up on the road, unless he thinks things are not safe."

"Safe?"

He ignored her question.

"For as long as we're stuck here, I'll have him drive by around nine, every day, with whatever supplies we require. And news about our arrangements."

"What are those arrangements, anyway?" she asked.

"You don't need to know that," he said brusquely, and then, in a more apologetic tone, "it's for your safety, you know. Yours and the children's. As I've said repeatedly, I know things between us are -" he looked up at the sky as though he might find the right word there, "- _difficult_ , what with the marriage and – ehrm - everything, but I am grateful to you, Fraulein. More than you know. I owe you a great deal."

"You don't owe me anything," Maria said. "You took me in, after all, and I'm just trying to earn my keep." Although the Captain remained seated, she was too restless for that, choosing instead to meander around the clearing. "If we're to be here for the week, they'll need a routine. Some structure. School in the morning, just like always. They can't just play the whole day away."

"Routine? Structure? School?" he laughed. "Is this my – I mean, is this _our_ Fraulein Maria talking?"

"They've been through a great deal, Captain. Ripped from their home, set in strange and uncomfortable circumstances. A little bit of structure can be reassuring." For a moment, her throat ached at the thought of Nonnberg Abbey. When would she see it again?

"Oh, they'll be all right," he said lightly. "They're resilient. But have at them, Fraulein, with all the discipline you can muster. Though I'm not sure how you'll have any lessons, not without books."

"Actually, we have a library full of books," and when he looked puzzled, she explained, "Brigitta brought a dictionary. She thought it would be the most efficient way to carry as many stories as possible with her."

Then they laughed together, and Maria added, "They really have been wonderful. Helpful, cooperative. Hard-working. Kind to each other. You should be proud of them."

"They're just grateful not to be shipped off to boarding school," he scoffed, "and for your return. Although," he hesitated, "they do seem a bit subdued. Marta is so fragile, and Louisa always seems on the verge of an explosion, and Liesl doesn't seem to know if she is a girl or a woman, and neither do I. Friedrich's afraid of me, and don't pretend you don't know it. Bringing them here – well, I hope I've done the right thing-" he trailed off.

In that moment of shared concern for the children, and the glimmer of fear and uncertainty that escaped the Captain's usual invincible façade, Maria felt her heart begin to open in forgiveness.

Everything about the Captain von Trapp she'd known in Aigen was orderly and very nearly mechanical, from the way he looked, nearly ironed into his uniform-like Trachten jackets, to his precise speech and efficient movements. Now, removed from his previous setting, he seemed much less of a mystery, somehow: dressed casually, comfortable in his rough surroundings, gentle and wise with his children, and displaying a novel vulnerability.

"Why do you stare at me that way?" he said.

"I'm not-" she began, and then she was suddenly tired of fighting, all the time. "It's just that, out here, you're different." She struggled to find the words. "You're not so – ehrm – complicated."

"Perhaps you don't know very much about me," he chided her.

"Oh, everyone knows about you. You're an aristocrat. A naval hero. Your father was a naval hero, too, I know that."

"He was. He died when I was four, and my mother raised me and my sister on her own. "

No father, Maria thought. Another reason he'd struggled to find his footing with his children.

"He was the one who earned the title, although he came originally from modest circumstances. The money came from my wife. Although I was the one who turned her modest fortune into something bigger."

Maria started. After an entire summer during which he'd barely been able to acknowledge that the children even had a mother, he had brought the Baroness von Trapp into this forest clearing as though she'd just come by for tea.

"Louisa's just like her, you know," he added casually. "Stubborn, but so charming she's got me wrapped around her finger. I'll have my hands full with her in another few years." It was an offhand remark, full of a parent's pride and mock dismay, but, once again, it was the comfortable presence of his late wife in the conversation that impressed Maria the most.

After one last extremely steep climb, they reached the top of the path. Pushing through the underbrush and out onto to the road, Maria found herself blinking away the bright sunlight. Before them lay a deserted, unpaved road, thick with dust. After nearly two days in the shadowy woods, the wide blue sky above seemed like a blessing. She basked in the sun's welcome heat while the Captain paced nearby, growing more visibly agitated by the moment.

"If he isn't here in another five minutes, he won't be-"

But just then, there was the shuffle of hooves and the jingle of harnesses, and the creak of wheels, and the cart that had brought Maria and the children to the woods appeared from around a curve. The cart was empty except for Leo, who expertly guided the plodding horses with his one good arm. When he drew up close to them, he stopped the horses with a soft cluck and dropped down to the ground in a surprisingly graceful gesture. He didn't acknowledge Maria's presence, but immediately began an animated dialogue with the Captain in rapid Italian. Although she had no hope of understanding, she was so curious about the secret plans for the next part of their journey that she strained to listen.

After a few minutes, the Captain gestured in her direction and, after directing another few remarks to Leo, said, "All right, Fraulein. Tell me what you want him to get."

"Fruit," she said, picturing the mental list she'd compiled. "Beans. Eggs. Sausages. Oh, and some ham or dried beef. Butter, and cheese of course. And jam."

The Captain relayed these requests to Leo, who listened stoically. Maria doubted the little man would remember half her requests.

"If you're asking for jam, you must want bread, Fraulein."

"No, no. Just some flour. We'll make our own bread."

"There is no need to economize," he began, but Maria interrupted him.

"It's a good skill for the girls to learn, and a way to stay busy, Captain. Oh, and because we traveled so light, we'll have to wash some clothes, if he could bring some soap as well?"

He shrugged and turned back to Leo, giving a few more instructions before digging into his pocket and turning over a wad of cash. Then the two men shook hands. Leo hoisted himself up on the wagon, clucked to the horses, and pulled out of sight.

As the cart disappeared around a curve in the road, they turned to begin their trip back to the cottage. The first, steep descent was difficult, and this time, Maria welcomed the Captain's steely grip on her elbow, steadying her on the rough terrain. By now, even in the woods, the sun had filtered in to fill the forest with damp, heavy heat. When they got to the little clearing, she was the one who asked for a moment to rest, seated, on the fallen tree, while it was his turn to pace.

There was a long, peaceful silence. Or at least she'd thought it peaceful until, as though he'd been waiting for her to let her guard down, he pounced.

"Fraulein Maria? I want a truthful answer from you. About the night of the party. I was thinking, and I was wondering – why did you run away to the Abbey?"

Maria shoved her hands into her pockets and repeated the excuse she'd given him ono their wedding day.

"I told you, Captain. The reason no longer exists."

"All right, then," he said evenly, "then let's try a different question." He continued to walk the perimeter of the clearing, each circuit drawing a little more tightly around her. "Why are you so angry at me?"

"I'm not angry," she insisted, but he cut her off.

"Nonsense, Fraulein. You've been furious with me since the moment you came to Reverend Mother's office. Why, you'll barely look me in the eye! I only brought the children there to visit you. I can hardly be blamed for that. As for the arrangement between us, I've made clear how grateful I am to you for it, so why-"

"I could ask you the same question," Maria retorted, "You didn't look any happier about our _arrangement_ than I did."

But he ignored her.

"Never mind, Fraulein. As it happens, I know why you were so angry. _And_ I know why you ran away."

Maria's heart had climbed into her throat, making it difficult for her to push out the words.

"You do?"

"I do. At first, I thought it was because I was unforgivably rude to you that night, at the party, in front of my guests. I made the mistake of thinking that just because you came from Nonnberg Abbey, you were some kind of saint, but of course you have feelings, just like any girl would. You must have resented the way I behaved, as though it was acceptable for me to dance with you when we were safely tucked out of sight, and then brushed you off in public."

He stopped his prowling and fixed her with an intense dark-blue gaze. Maria felt a warm flush creep up her neck to her cheeks. Although he was the one doing the confessing, he was edging closer to a secret truth, one she prayed Baroness Schrader had not told him about and that Maria would rather die than reveal to him: she had been in love with him, even if now, her feelings for him ranged from pity to irritation.

"And I _was_ rude to you, Fraulein. But I was rude to you all summer, isn't that right?" He leaned forward, his voice suddenly, oddly, kind. "So that can't possibly be why you ran away. Can it?"

"It isn't?"

"You ran away because you were confused. Frightened."

"Why would I have been frightened? You were never unkind to me."

"I would never have done you any harm," he agreed. "But I'll let you in on a secret. I _was_ frightened."

"Why would _you_ be frightened of _me_ , Captain _?_ "

"Because, ludicrous as it seemed, I found myself attracted to you. A postulant from Nonnberg Abbey! I was afraid that something might happen between us. What made it so nice was that you felt the same way about me. Don't even try to deny it. I hadn't felt that way in years."

Maria couldn't hold back a snort.

"Don't you believe me?" he frowned.

"Years? More like months or even weeks. Everyone knows you had women, lots of them, before your engagement to Baroness Schrader. Why would I want to be one of them? Especially because you'd have gotten over it soon enough. Men do, you know."

He shot her a surprised look.

"I had no idea you were so worldly, Fraulein."

"You'd be surprised, Captain, what _you_ don't know about _me_."

He stopped his pacing and looked away from her, out into the distant forest. "But what could I do about it?" he asked, as though pleading with some unseen person. Then his gaze swung back to her.

"What would _you_ have had me do?"

Maria opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. The moment stretched between them, weighted with tense anticipation.

His eyes narrowed and his voice took on a dangerous edge.

"What did you _want_ me to do? _Fraulein_ ," he said ironically, as though trying to maintain a measure of formality between them, even as the air around them grew more charged. "And what would you have done in return? Surely you would not have welcomed my advances."

When the Captain drew closer to where she sat, his mouth crinkled in a surprisingly tender smile.

"Or would you?"

When he extended his hand to her, her heart began to pound until she was sure it would break open her chest.

"Let's find out, shall we?" he whispered.

She was like one of the children's puppets, being pulled to her feet by unseen strings. Maria allowed him to coax her into position, to grasp one of her hands high overhead while gently tugging the other hand behind her back to hold it there. They were back in the garden now. As he guided her into a slow spin, the rustle and buzz of the forest around them faded away, until she almost thought she could hear the Laendler's sweet air on the breeze.

The slow turns grew faster and faster, until the woods whirled dizzily at the edges of her vision. His dark gaze, as fierce and tender as it had been that night in the garden, locked with hers. He was so close that his legs brushed against hers, so close Maria could feel his warm breath on her lips.

"Now," he said huskily. "Where were we?"

The words forced themselves from her dry mouth.

"Are you going to kiss me?"

"Yes. I think I am. Yes."

Now their lips were only a hairs-breadth apart, but she could sense his hesitation.

"Wait. No. I'm not. No. I don't think I can do it after all."

"Why not?"

"Because I'd burn in hell for it."

"But you wouldn't be going there alone, Captain."

Her words broke the spell, somehow, because the next thing Maria knew, he had dropped her hands and stepped away from her. He threw his head back with a roar of laughter.

"Well played, Fraulein. I certainly do not want the eternal damnation of a postulant from Nonnberg Abbey on my conscience. You'll have to find someone else for that."

The Captain was still chuckling when he reached for her hand and led her back onto the path and downhill toward the cabin, easing his hold on her only as they approached the waterfall. This time, Maria was glad for his firm grip, as their encounter had left her reeling.

It _was_ a relief, to have certain things out in the open between them, Maria thought, but with her secret still safe. At most, she had admitted to a flirtation, and despite whatever had happened with their engagement, Baroness Schrader had not betrayed her. He would never know how deeply he'd affected her, or the foolish and tender dreams she had held in her heart.

In any event, for both of them, it was in the past now. It seemed as though Captain von Trapp was turning into a different sort of person before her eyes, and soon this new Captain would be taking his children to safety, and she would be – what? Maria didn't know what her future held after this interlude in the woods.

But she saw now that Reverend Mother had been wise to tell her to let the Captain believe she was still a postulant. Because otherwise, what might have happened?

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

 **I am so excited for the coming chapters, but unfortunately, I'm at the absolute peak busiest time of my work year! The updates will be a little slow in coming, if at all, for the rest of the month. I am so grateful for the many wonderful reviews, and hope you will forgive me for not answering them individually (in the spirit of the review holiday I am giving you!) Don't own, all for love.**


	6. Chapter 6: The Waterfall

**CHAPTER 6: THE WATERFALL**

The rest of the week flew by. The weather was beautiful, with warm days and cooler nights that held the promise of autumn, as did the trees, which wore a light spattering of bronze and scarlet.

As she'd promised, Maria got the children settled into a routine that included half-days of school, starting just after breakfast. It was easy to draw science lessons from the surrounding forest. Brigitta was put in charge of spelling bees, conducted with the help of her dictionary. At the Captain's suggestion, Liesl began teaching the younger girls some English, which Maria supposed was a gesture in memory of their mother, though of course, he'd never admit to it.

Everyone pitched in to prepare a big midday dinner, and in the afternoon, there were chores, hikes to the waterfall and music lessons with the help of the old guitar. After a light supper, Captain von Trapp contributed his extensive knowledge of literature in nightly recitations. Sometimes it seemed as though he had committed every poem ever written to memory.

The girls baked bread and made soup, while the boys and their father caught fish from the nearby creek. Each of these new tasks was undertaken cheerfully and with great enthusiasm, and Maria found it endlessly amusing to watch the von Trapp children make an adventure out of the very same tasks that had made up the daily drudgery of her girlhood. Although uprooted from the luxurious comforts of only home they'd ever known, they were clearly flourishing under the constant attention of their father.

The Captain had adopted some new routines as well. Every day or two, he went off on his own after breakfast to meet Leo, leaving Maria only slightly disappointed that he never again invited her to accompany him on the climb up to the road. He spent quite a lot of time chopping wood out back of the cottage, but devoted most of the remaining time to the children.

In her presence, he was always perfectly pleasant, although more business-like than warm. They seemed to have agreed, without speaking of it, to put the incident in the forest behind them, and to maintain a polite distance from each other, as though the spark that had danced between them all summer and nearly ignited that morning, had been permanently extinguished. Or never existed at all. Either way, Maria told herself, it was a relief.

Meanwhile, she continued to marvel at the slow emergence of a more patient and thoughtful Captain. Every night, he took the battered guitar in his arms and sang the edelweiss song to his family. Then he would slip out the door with a quiet, "Good night, Fraulein. Good night, children," and disappear into the forest, leaving Maria to supervise bedtime prayers and tooth-brushing, to get the younger children to bed and to pass another quiet hour with the older ones before they all retired. Although she was always sound asleep by the time he returned from wherever it was he went each evening, she knew she could count on him to greet them in the morning, and on his having already started the fire for breakfast.

Maria couldn't help but be curious where he took himself off to every night, especially since there wasn't really anywhere for him to go. Doubtless he just needed to be alone with his thoughts, and his grief – although Maria wondered if was grieving his broken engagement to Baroness Schrader, or his lost wife. Perhaps both.

One morning after breakfast, when the week had nearly passed, Captain von Trapp took her aside.

"I'm going up to the main road again," he said in a low voice. "Hoping for good news from Leo. I'll be back by noon, in time for dinner. We'll probably be leaving here soon, but just in case, is there anything I should ask for?"

"Apples, and more cheese and oh, Captain, I know he said it was impossible, but can you ask him again for vegetables? Carrots, potatoes, beans, anything like that."

After he left, everyone got busy. Louisa and Brigitta started on the breakfast dishes, while Liesl practiced English with the little girls and the boys swept and aired the cabin. Still thinking of vegetables, Maria remembered that yesterday, she'd spotted a patch of wild greens near the waterfall.

"Liesl," she called before starting down the path to the waterfall, "I'm going foraging. Can you get school started? And the rest of you, _do_ behave, won't you?"

OoOoOoOoOo

He knew Leo to be unfailingly prompt, so when the little man hadn't arrived by ten minutes after the hour, Georg sighed in resignation and turned back toward the cottage. Hopefully, there would be good news tomorrow. Even with the diversion of his children and the novelty of their rustic life, the wait was beginning to wear on him.

And the wait wasn't the only thing wearing on him. Having reached a détente with Fraulein Maria had its advantages, allowing them to work smoothly together in a challenging situation. But with their relationship on better footing, his irritation with her had turned to temptation. The temptation itself wasn't new, having plagued him all summer, but now, without Elsa's vigilance to keep him in line, he was finding the little governess so appealing that she was nearly impossible to resist.

This vexing attraction to the little governess had been an unwelcome development, one that represented a setback after the progress he'd made in the last four years. In the immediate aftermath of Agathe's death, numbed by shock and grief, he'd faced the future with nothing but dread, with no hope for peace or contentment, let alone joy or, even more impossibly, love. But after the first year, while having come to accept that his wife had taken his shattered heart along with her to her grave, he also knew that she'd forgive him for having found a kind of meaning in life in the arms of the series of women who were grateful for his attentions and brought him some measure of mindless relief.

Georg had considered his relationship with Elsa a further step forward, one that set aside the purely carnal in favor of the promise of a new mother for his children. He and Elsa had each already been blessed with one loving marriage, and had been in full accord from the start: their marriage would be based on warm companionship and shared interests. Love, for both of them, was something that belonged to the past. While Elsa's willingness to go along with the Nazis had doomed their marriage, on the matter of love, at least, they had never disagreed.

So when temptation presented itself in the form of the new governess from Nonnberg Abbey, it was like revisiting an uncomfortable chapter in his life he'd thought safely behind him. Georg had known perfectly well that he should have stayed away from Fraulein Maria, a girl too inexperienced to know the difference between love and a flirtation, but he just couldn't seem to manage it. In the immediate aftermath of Elsa's grand and glorious party, Georg had been nearly sick with regret for that Laendler in the garden, not to mention the weeks of heady but dangerous overfamiliarity that had preceded it. Whatever had sent her running back to Nonnberg that night, his cold demeanor at the party couldn't have done much for her confidence.

It _was_ slightly disturbing, how readily the girl seemed to have forgiven and forgotten his many trespasses: not only the night of the party, but also his boorish behavior on their so-called wedding night. _And_ the incident in the forest when he'd come within millimeters of kissing her. Perhaps it was her association with Nonnberg Abbey that made her so forgiving? Because whatever girlish crush she might have had on him seemed safely in the past. Lately, Fraulein Maria's attitude toward him seemed to be one of watchful and distant courtesy.

Still, fool that he was, he couldn't seem to leave well enough alone. Confidence, rather than arrogance, made Georg certain that if he chose to fan the flames of last summer's flirtation, he could probably lure the girl into his bed. But of course, this was unthinkable. Absurd. _Impossible._ A liaison with a postulant from Nonnberg Abbey, conducted in the immediate vicinity of his children, was the last complication he needed at the present time, not to mention that he'd promised to return her to Nonnberg untouched. And he wouldn't want to do anything to reawaken her feelings for him, feelings he could never reciprocate.

Georg had only a limited number of tactics at his disposal for controlling his attraction to Fraulein Maria, and they were starting to lose their effectiveness. Treating her with sarcasm and rage, the methods he'd used all summer, seemed cruel and unfair, not in their present circumstances and after everything she'd done for his family. He did his best to avoid being alone with her, having no desire to tempt fate again after the incident in the forest. He chopped wood by the hour, trying to exhaust himself, until the woodshed was nearly bursting with at least three winters' worth of fuel.

Lately, as night fell, he'd taken to escaping to a small cave he'd discovered, tucked just beyond the waterfall. There, he could be alone with thoughts of Agathe, memories that lately seemed to bring him more peaceful comfort than pain, although his sleep was occasionally punctuated by shameful dreams populated by naked, copper-hair sprites. But at least the subject of those dreams wasn't sleeping in the next room with his daughters curled around her like kittens. No matter how poorly he slept, his body, still subjecting itself to naval discipline, would awaken him in time to stumble out of the cave at daybreak, just in time to return to the cottage and start the fire for breakfast.

If he were perfectly honest with himself, he'd known from the start that this arrangement would mean trouble, hadn't he? He reminded himself that Liesl could not have managed to get the children out of Austria on her own, and there was no one else he could have trusted to do it. But Fraulein Maria seemed unaware of the effect she had on him and _everything_ about her had an effect – her musical laugh, the dark fan of lashes that fringed her blue eyes, her long legs, her -

It was like a riddle with no solution. She was his wife – no court anywhere in Europe would blame him for claiming what was legally his – but she was promised to God as well.

Before returning to the cottage, Georg decided, he'd better do something to distract himself.

Ten minutes later, he was at the waterfall, stripping bare in hopes that the cold spray of water would wash away his craving for the little governess. Closing his eyes, he searched his memory for an image of the last in the string of lovers he'd taken to his bed before meeting Elsa. Astrid: a Swedish countess whose enticing curves and clever tongue had kept him in Stockholm for a month before he'd been forced to come home to hire yet another governess.

Strange, that while bedding all of those women in the first years after Agathe's death had been a satisfying pastime, he'd rarely given one of them a thought once another had taken her place. He could only summon Astrid's memory because she'd been the last one, before he'd met Elsa and decided to make a clean break with his sordid past and conduct himself honorably with the future mother of his children. Before Astrid, had it been Sophia? Or Mila? He wasn't sure. _They_ had sought him out, after all, not the other way around. He'd given them what they'd come for, and that was all there was to it!

Despite himself, his mind wandered away from Astrid and back toward the virginal postulant from Nonnberg Abbey. Well, it was only natural, wasn't it, to want what you couldn't have? The girl was an innocent, all pink cheeks and freckles, and that spelled trouble. Georg wondered if she was freckled everywhere. Or was her skin flawless, like porcelain, especially in the places where the sun couldn't reach? Between her thighs, for example-

He flinched at the first shock of icy water hitting his head and sluicing down his chest, but no matter how forcefully he pushed away his thoughts about Maria, his body would not let him forget, and responded accordingly. There was only one way to calm himself, he thought, and no point being embarrassed about it. He used one hand to brace himself against the rock wall and with the other, tightened his grip and began to stroke himself, but he wasn't yet lost to sensation when he his instincts warned him of the unheard presence of another person.

He whirled away from the wall and there, as though his very thoughts had summoned her, stood the little governess.

In a flash, Georg took in the pink cheeks and parted lips, even the faint tremble in her chin, but it was her eyes that undid him: they burned blue, not with fear, or embarrassment, but with curiosity, and something _else_ , something more he could barely believe. Something that made him forget himself, and who he was, and who _she_ was. Instead of wilting with embarrassment, he grew more aroused by the second. It was, without question, the most erotic moment of his life.

"Go ahead and look. Take your time," he breathed. "Take as long as you like."

She stood there, a small and defenseless forest creature he didn't want to scare away. At least not until – now the predator's blood began to warm his veins – at least not until he was done playing with her and was ready to pounce. Or would he allow her to escape?

She ought to have run away at the very first glimpse of him, Maria knew, before he became aware of her presence, but her chest grew so tight she could not draw a breath, and her legs would not cooperate. Whether in the summer's suits and Trachten jackets, or evening clothes, or even this past week in shirt and trousers, the Captain had a lean, elegant grace. Unclothed, though, he radiated a fearsome power that set her insides quaking. Although the sight made her dizzy, she could not help staring at the broad chest, the wide shoulders and muscled arms, the long, powerful legs, all of it golden but for the pale glow of his midsection, all of it striped with sunlight, glinting with sun-sparkled water droplets and covered with dark hair. When he turned toward her, there was a momentary confusion when she couldn't make sense of what she was seeing and could not stop the mortifying words that flew from her lips:

"What are you doing there, Captain?"

It was bad enough that she'd said it out loud, but why on earth had she called him _Captain?_

His lips quirked a smile.

"What is it you think I'm doing?"

"Nothing."

"What are you staring at, Fraulein?"

"Nothing."

Now the smile broke into a wide grin.

"Oh, is that what you call it?"

"I mean-"

Her embarrassment overcame her shock and released her from the spell, and she managed a step backward, and then another.

"I beg your pardon, Captain."

"Seen enough? Go on then." He waved her away with his free hand, although it was impossible not to notice that he hadn't moved his occupied hand, not at all. "There are some things a postulant ought not to see. Why, I imagine you'll go scuttling all the way back to Nonnberg Abbey!"

"I'm not _scuttling_ ," Maria replied, taking another step backward with as much dignity as she could muster. "It's more of a rapid walk."

She hated being laughed at. At that moment, Maria hated everyone and everything, Baroness Schrader for having humiliated her, Reverend Mother for having trapped her into this ridiculous adventure, herself, for being a blushing virgin in love with a heartless rake. Most of all, she hated _him_.

"And anyway," she blurted out, "I'm _never_ going back to Nonnberg. Because I'm not going to be a nun."

Oddly, it was this revelation that seemed to have shocked Captain von Trapp, who went perfectly still.

"It was all decided some time ago, but Reverend Mother told me not to tell you. I'm not a postulant, not anymore."

"You _what_?" he hissed. Finally – thank God – let go of himself and let out a curse.

Maria winced, but now that the truth had popped out, there was no taking it back. Before she could say anything else, the Captain spread one hand over his midsection, although it was inadequate to the task, and used the other to make a little turning motion as he bit out an order.

"Turn around."

Gratefully, she spun away from him and started down the path back toward the cottage, but he stopped her.

"You will stay here, Fraulein, and explain yourself to me," and after a minute, he added, "come over here and sit down."

Limp with regret and relief at finally having told the truth, Maria turned to find the Captain, fully dressed now, gesturing at a fallen tree. Once she'd seated herself, he joined her, carefully leaving a safe distance between them.

"Now," he said sharply, "what's all this about? When did this happen?"

For someone who'd been so composed when caught nude, and the middle of an unspeakable act, he was suddenly awfully agitated. A delayed reaction, Maria supposed.

"It's not something that just happened, Captain," she began. "It was something I always knew inside, for many months, even though-"

Suddenly, she wanted to tell him all about it, as though he'd be able to help her understand it, which of course made no sense at all. The man didn't even attend church, and she was sure he hadn't been to confession in years.

"Although I didn't recognize it myself, not for the longest time. You know, most of the girls are postulants for six months. Maybe a year. For me, it was _three_ years, and every time I asked, I was told that God's will has no why, which of course I accept. I wanted with all my heart," her voice wobbled dangerously, "I wanted to serve God, but still, I didn't seem to be able to follow all the rules. There were so _many_ rules! And I was sick all the time. I had terrible headaches."

"Headaches? A sturdy girl like you?"

"M-hm. The only thing that seemed to help was to escape to the Untersberg. I kept running away, and I know Reverend Mother looked the other way, but it was starting to worry me, how I'd get along once I was one of the sisters."

Now the words poured out of her in a fierce rush.

"When your letter arrived, asking for a governess, I didn't want to leave, you know. I promised to do better, I swore I knew what was expected of me and that now I would do it, but Reverend Mother, she told me to take the summer to know if I could expect if of myself."

"And?" he said gently.

She kicked at the side of the log, quite viciously, before answering.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm here, aren't I? I failed."

Maria took one last kick at the poor log. She'd rather die than fill in the details, about how a girl who'd confessed to having fallen in love with a man, even a fine and brave one like Georg von Trapp, could no longer pretend she was cut out for the cloistered life. Reverend Mother had assured her that the love between a man and a woman was holy too, but that was no comfort when the love went only one way. She had loved the Captain, though she didn't anymore. He had loved his Baronesses. All of them were miserable now, except for the first Baroness, of course, because she was in heaven.

Georg's mind was racing. Fraulein Maria sat beside him, more tempting than ever – that wild look on her eyes when she'd caught him pleasuring himself had gone straight to his groin– and now there was neither Elsa's vigilance nor the barrier of the little governess' vocation to protect him. To protect _her,_ that is.

"You must have been terribly disappointed," was all he said. "I _thought_ something was different about you, when we came to see you at the Abbey, but I had no idea." Casting about for some way to reassure her, and to make himself feel better, he added, "You make it sound like you have nothing to look forward to. But you have a bright future, Fraulein. When this is behind us, you'll be free to do as you like and with my help, you'll have a nice nest egg to help you. You can travel, or go to school. And eventually, of course, you'll marry. Someone-"

Someone who could give you a baby, he'd been about to say, I suppose you'd like that, but the thought was somehow so disturbing it died on his lips.

" _Marry_?" she snorted. "Why would I want to do that? If I wanted someone to order me around and make all my decisions for me, I could stay at Nonnberg with Sister Berthe. No, love and marriage are definitely not for me. Just look at all the great works of literature: love either ends in murder and bloodshed, or heartbreak, doesn't it?"

Baroness Schrader had as much as told her that, hadn't she? But then Maria remembered how Captain von Trapp's marriage had ended. She stole a guilty look at him, but he was smiling.

"What's so funny?" she demanded.

"I know it's hard to remember," He laughed, running a hand through his hair, "but you _are_ married. To me."

She rolled her eyes.

"Surely this experience has very little in common with a _real_ marriage, Captain."

"My point exactly! You just have to find the right sort of man," he told her. "Someone who only wants the best for you, who protects you-"

Maria opened her mouth to protest the idea that she needed a husband to protect her, but the wistful smile on his face stopped her, and she was glad she had, when he finished, "-and who needs your protection as well. And anyway, it's fun being married, Fraulein."

Georg did not want to continue debating the little governess' future. The whole topic was strangely unsettling. But any topic of conversation was preferable to the one he knew he'd have to face sooner or later: his unspeakably disgraceful behavior when she'd surprised him under the waterfall. What had he been thinking? No, it would be better to seize command of the situation, to go on the offensive.

"Fraulein Maria. Why didn't you tell me this earlier? And your Reverend Mother – was it some kind of conspiracy?"

"Oh, Captain, I am sorry about that. If it had been my decision, I'd have told you, but Reverend Mother thought it better not to."

"Because she didn't trust me, is that right?"

"I didn't say that, Captain."

"You didn't have to. What kind of a man do you think I am?"

They stared at each other for a long moment, before Georg rose to his feet and, without another word, strode across the clearing and down the path back to the cottage.

Because he knew the answer to that question, even if she didn't.

oOoOoOoOoO

Another few days and nights passed, with no word from Leo, before the Captain caught sight of Maria outside the cottage and summoned her to the woodpile, where he fumbled an apology.

"I don't know what got into me. I mean, I do know, and so do you. But it doesn't excuse my conduct."

"Oh, please, Captain, let's not talk about it."

"I wouldn't want you to think-" He studied his dusty boots intently before his gaze swung back to meet hers. "You know you have nothing to fear from me, Fraulein, don't you? Because if it will make things right, we can make arrangements for you to return to Austria right now. Just say the word, and Leo will-"

Maria pinched at the bridge of her nose.

"Oh, Captain, please. I beg of you. There's no need for that. I'd rather just forget about it."

And she _did_ wish it, wished it with all her heart, judging by the number of sleepless hours she'd spent on her knees, asking God to erase the image of a nude, aroused Captain that was permanently burned inside her eyelids.

"We'll just have to put all of that behind us," Georg said.

And he meant it, too, although repeating it to himself a dozen or more times a day was helpful reinforcement.

Any day now, Leo would have some news about the next leg of their journey, and Fraulein Maria would be on her way back to Austria. It was none of his business, what happened to her after that.

"Exactly," she said briskly, adding, "We'll just be – ehrm – good friends."

"Indeed."

With that, Captain von Trapp nodded decisively and strode rapidly up the path to the cottage.

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

 **Sorry for the long delay while I managed to hit my work deadline! On vacation now with lots of writing time, you'll be happy to know. Next chapters already well underway.**

 **This chapter also got delayed a bit because I decided to recap Georg's situation, which I thought was clear in the first chapter but I started to wonder after a few twinkly reviews and PMs about how cute it is that Georg is really secretly in love with Maria. Because if I were a better writer, it would be clearer that he's not, actually. He's just a broken man with an ugly past, and at the risk of boring readers who understood that, I decided to repeat myself on that point, because the rest of the story won't work otherwise.**

 **I realize this was at the edge of T territory, but nothing else mature for a few more chapters.**

 **Anyway hope you enjoy. Remember, no reviews, no guilt (although always appreciated).**

 **Don't own TSOM, it's all for love.**


	7. Chapter 7: Insight

**CHAPTER 7: INSIGHT**

Maria didn't like to bother Captain von Trapp about his plans to leave Italy. But as the days went by, she could see his face become lined with worry; he returned from his meetings with Leo without any progress to report. One evening after supper, she left the children to tidy the cottage and sought him out at their usual meeting place: the bench outside the woodshed, where he sat, staring out into the forest, apparently lost in thought.

"Captain? I – ehrm – I don't want to be a pest, but-"

She waited for a bitter retort, but there was none.

"There's a German unit in Milan," he said quietly. His eyes remained fixed in the distance. "Leo told me about it this morning. They're asking questions. Whether anyone's seen you since you arrived. If anyone's seen me."

Maria's heart tripped against her ribs. Hidden in their forest retreat, it had been easy to forget their uncertain and dangerous circumstances.

His gaze swung in her direction.

"I hadn't expected to be here long enough to worry about the Germans catching up to us, but that was before my arrangements on the other end were delayed." He lifted his hands as though preparing to offer a further comment, but then let them drop into his lap, an uncharacteristically helpless gesture "Perhaps it was a mistake, rushing them out of Austria like that, but I had every reason to believe that-"

"Oh, no, sir, no! I'm sure you're doing what's best for your children."

Talk of the Germans reminded Maria of a question Brigitta had whispered to her last night, just before bedtime, the time when the children's hearts always seemed to open and their fears and dreams spilled out.

"Captain, Brigitta has apparently been worrying herself sick about something. Some _one_ , actually. Herr Detweiler. She said that shortly before you - I mean before we – left Austria, he simply failed to appear at breakfast one morning."

To her surprise, the Captain chuckled.

"Max?" He gestured for her to take a seat next to him on the bench. "Don't worry about good old Max. He's perfectly all right. He was in a bit of a tight spot, and it's got to be kept a secret, but I got him on a steamer to Shanghai, where he can wait out the war safely. I'm quite confident he'll be back in Austria when the war ends, well-prepared to capitalize on the ruins."

"I didn't know Herr Detweiler was Jewish!"

"That's not the problem. It's because he's-" the Captain sent a wary glance Maria's way and said abruptly, "well, yes, Jewish. That's what I meant to say, of course."

Maria couldn't make sense of his obvious discomfort, but before she could sort it out, he quickly changed the subject.

"You look exhausted, Fraulein. You've been working entirely too hard. I worry that you'll wear yourself out entirely before long, and then where would we be?" he smiled faintly, as though the joke itself was an effort.

"Oh, I'm all right," she assured him. "I've been doing housework since I was a little girl."

"Have you? I don't know very much about you. Always going on about myself, I suppose. I'll bet you grew up in a large family, didn't you?"

"Me?" Maria laughed.

But the Captain leaned toward her, resting an elbow on his knee, as though genuinely interested in her response.

"Oh, it was quite the opposite," she explained. "My father died when I was a baby, and then my mother was gone by the time I was Brigitta's age. I was sent to live with my mother's uncle and his wife. They – well, they weren't very kind to me. I had a roof over my head and food to eat, and I was sent to school, but I was expected to do most of the housework. I wasn't harmed in any way, but there wasn't any affection, either. The two of them were too caught up in arguing with each other to pay me any mind."

"No wonder you escaped to the Abbey! Your faith got you through it, I suppose."

Maria shook her head.

"I'm afraid you've guessed wrong again. In fact, I had only just made my first Communion when my mother died, and my uncle and his wife weren't church-goers, and all of that fell away from me. I was seventeen when they died, within months of each other, and so I went to work, and put myself through teachers' college. That was when I got the idea to enter the Abbey. I would come down the mountain, and hear the sisters singing on their way to Vespers, and it was all just so _peaceful._ It seemed – I don't know, so pure, and noble, and the sisters were so kind. Most of them, anyway," she smiled, thinking of Sister Berthe. "And I wasn't interested in getting married, anyway, not after the example my uncle and his wife had set."

"A pity," he murmured. His eyes fixed on some distant point over the horizon, and a queer, soft look came over his face. "Because it's not like that at all. Being married, you know, it's really quite-"

Having lost her audience, Maria was suddenly aware of having gone on about herself far too long in response to the Captain's polite inquiry. At the same time, there was something about this moment, as though the space between them, usually so charged, had become comfortable and welcoming. For the first time in months, she felt truly at ease in his presence.

"Can I ask you a question?" she said timidly. "If you liked being married so much, then why didn't you marry Baroness Schrader?"

"Elsa?" He shot her a surprised look. "We just discovered we couldn't go on the same way," he said matter-of-factly. "That's all there is to it."

"What does that mean?" she blurted, although it was none of her business. But he didn't seem offended by her question.

"She wanted me to stay and take the commission at Bremerhaven."

"Oh! But you _never_ could have-"

"Yes. I suppose so." He tugged nervously at his ear. "I mean _no_. Of course not."

There was something _off_ about his reply, something that sent another inappropriate question flying from Maria's lips before she could stop it.

"Or could you, Captain?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I mean, you spent all those years at sea, and the chance to have a command again, it must have been-"

"Tempting. Is that what you're trying to say?"

There was a long, awkward silence, while Captain von Trapp rose to his feet and turned to face her. Maria's heart sank at the thought of having offended him. Her cursed outspokenness! And just as things between them had begun to improve!

"Was I tempted by their offer? Is that what you're wondering, Fraulein?"

Before Maria could apologize for even thinking such a thing, the words poured out of him, as though he'd been longing for the chance to say them out loud.

"I was, yes. God forgive me. I sat on those telegrams for days, and every time I reread them, I grew more ashamed of my inability to simply turn them down. Zeller eventually turned up at the villa to demand an answer, and with Elsa urging me on to do the wrong thing, somehow I was able to," he ran a hand through his hair, "to do the _right_ thing."

"So you are human, after all. Like the rest of us," Maria said. "Reverend Mother thinks you are a paragon. I'll be sure not to tell her the truth."

He sent a wan smile her way.

"I _am_ sorry," she added impulsively. "About Baroness Schrader. I'm sure it was very disappointing."

He shrugged.

"It wasn't, not really. In fact, it helped me realize something. I'm not going to marry again after all."

"But Captain, _you_ are the one always telling _me_ how wonderful it is to be married, and I mean, I can see how sad it was, what happened to – ehrm – to the children's mother, but don't you think she – their mother, I mean, don't you think she would have wanted you to be happy? And for the children to have a mother here on earth?"

He slumped back onto the bench with a deep sigh.

"I wish I could explain it to you, Fraulein, but I can't. Most people aren't lucky enough to find that kind of thing even once in their lives. Just look at your uncle," he said grimly, before falling abruptly silent.

An evening breeze, sharpened by autumn's arrival, shivered through the trees. They'd been speaking long enough that the last bit of daylight had faded entirely, leaving the woodshed and surrounding yard wrapped in violet shadow. The cottage stood in the distance, its windows making squares of warm golden light against the dusk.

When the Captain spoke again, she could barely hear his voice, hoarse and low, over the rustling breeze.

"I just can't."

"Can't what?" Maria whispered.

A long moment, weighted by tangible sorrow.

"I can't beat it."

Through the gloom, she could make out his handsome face turning away from her, as though the admission had embarrassed him.

The memory of that dreadful day in the Mayor's office came back to her.

"It must have been so painful, then, having to marry me. No wonder you were so – ehrm – so _cross_ that day _._ "

She heard, rather than saw, the wry smile return to his voice.

"Cross? That's a bit of an understatement, wouldn't you say? The way I barged into your room in a drunken rage that night, the things I said and did? But yes. It was – ehrm - _difficult._ "

It seemed like there were no limits to where this conversation might go.

"Your ring," she burst out. "You took it off."

He hesitated.

"It seemed disrespectful. Of you, I mean. You were willing to help me out in a difficult situation, even after I'd treated you so rudely at the party, first, and then after the wedding, and then that morning in the forest, and of course there was-"

Hoping to cut off his confession before he brought up the incident by the waterfall, Maria hastily changed the subject.

"And you really aren't sad about leaving Austria, Captain? Don't you miss your home?"

"Of course I miss it. But to be honest-"

Maria leaned forward expectantly.

"I find it easier, being here." he said somberly. "Call it running away from memories, if you like."

Just then, there was an explosion of sound and a flurry of activity coming from the direction of the cottage. Kurt and Louisa appeared, flushed with excitement over a family of raccoons found nested under the front porch, while Liesl followed behind them, shouting stern warnings to keep a safe distance.

And just like that, the Captain and Maria's first real conversation in months came to an end.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

In the days that followed, Maria thought often about that remarkable conversation with Captain von Trapp.

From her very first day at the villa, of course, she'd known the Captain to be consumed by grief for his wife. Hadn't Frau Schmidt told her as much? Somehow, his reconciliation with his children had led Maria to assume that his heart would become whole again. But now, she understood that was never going to happen.

How mistaken she'd been to believe, even for a moment, that Baroness Schrader had broken his heart! Maria still wasn't sure how to make sense of the rumors about the Captain's scandalous behavior in the years between his wife's death and his engagement to the Baroness; _that_ situation was beyond her innocent understanding. But he couldn't have been clearer: there was only one woman for Georg von Trapp, and she was forever lost to him.

This knowledge made Maria wistful, but it also quieted the turbulent feelings for the Captain that had roiled her mind and heart since the summer. She no longer had to despise him, because she no longer took his behavior toward her personally. Perhaps the tender feelings she might have had for him at one point allowed her to forgive him his inability to return them. He was a rake, that was all that was left of him, caught between his attraction to her, which he was at least honest enough to admit to, and the inability of his broken heart to act on it.

Her new insight into the Captain also put Maria at peace with her plans for the future. While still occupied with the family's Italian sojourn, she forced herself to consider, seriously, what she would do when their time in the forest came to an end. The idea of going back to Salzburg as a governess or teacher was distinctly unappealing: every time she looked up to the mountains, Nonnberg Abbey's onion-shaped dome would bring to mind her failure there, and everywhere else she looked, she'd be reminded of the von Trapp family. That must be why Reverend Mother had sought a position for her in Vienna.

Vienna. Yes, she'd set her sights on Vienna. In Maria's mind, the city was associated with Baroness Schrader's tales of the opera, fashionable shops, art galleries and glamorous parties in a sophisticated milieu. _Not_ my sort of place, she thought, yet at the same time, the idea of trying out a very different kind of life appealed to her.

One thing she knew for sure did _not_ lie ahead for her: the Captain could try all he want to convince her of the virtues of marriage, but that seemed an unlikely future. Because when she tried to imagine a husband for herself, the result was always exactly the same: tall, dark hair tipped with silver, blue eyed, broad shouldered, stubborn and impossibly arrogant, with a warm baritone and a prodigious memory for poetry. How would any other man measure up to that?

OoOoOoOo

The days began to grow shorter. The forest blazed with vibrant colors, even as the canopy of trees overhead began to thin; brisk puffs of wind sent scarlet, gold and bronze leaves aloft, only to let them drift gently downward to pile on the forest floor. Even at midday, the sun no longer heated the forest, providing only a feeble warmth that quickly faded with the sun, leaving the evenings quite cool.

Nearly every morning, Georg climbed up to the road. When he was lucky, Leo was there to meet him, bearing food, supplies and even a sackful of worn jumpers for the children. But there was no further news of his plans to leave Italy.

On this particular day, a drenching, chilly rain began just after breakfast and continued throughout the afternoon and into suppertime. By that evening, in the time it took him to sprint to the cave, Georg was soaked to the skin. Kicking his boots aside, he doused the lantern and wrapped himself in a quilt, shivering in the inky darkness and letting his mind wander, once again, to the extraordinary conversation he'd had with Fraulein Maria, by the woodshed.

Georg had shocked himself by confiding in his _governess_ , of all things, expressing sentiments he'd barely acknowledged even to himself. That sort of heart-to-heart discussion had always really been Agathe's realm, not his. Only this past summer had he discovered that talking about Agathe with the older children, and indulging in the things that reminded him of her – music and laughter – had brought a measure of comfort and peace to his mind and heart, and at a time when he'd desperately needed it for the sake of his family's future.

He had the little governess to thank for that, and now he understood a further, poignant reality: her instincts had not been formed by faith, and honed at Nonnberg Abbey, as he'd previously assumed, but rather by her early experiences with loss. It aroused a sort of protective instinct in him, almost as though he'd found a friend, one whose future happiness was worth attending to.

Quite apart from his simmering attraction to her, there was a great deal to admire about Fraulein Maria: her patience with the children, for one thing. Her patience with him, for another. Her ability to keep their spirits up during this miserable ordeal. She was like some kind of forest sprite, identifying birds by their songs, knowledgeably distinguishing the safe mushrooms from the unsafe ones, searching out the last of summer's wild berries hidden deep in the surrounding woods. He would, of course, reward her with a handsome bonus when this ordeal came to an end and she returned to Austria.

He hadn't been entirely honest with her in that conversation. Well, half-truths, perhaps. About why he'd removed his wedding ring, for one thing. And he _had_ been monstrously out of sorts the day he'd married her, in part because it seemed a betrayal of Agathe, but also because, even then, he'd known it was asking for trouble to take the little governess off into the woods, postulant or not. And he'd been right about that, hadn't he?

For a day or two, Georg had foolishly hoped that the cozy chat with Fraulein Maria had put them on safer ground, by creating a different, if quite agreeable, kind of intimacy between them. They were friends, an improbable pair of friends, and that was all!

But tonight, Georg's thoughts warmed along with his body as he continued to ponder the problem called Maria. The enthralled expression on her face when she'd found him under the waterfall had imprinted itself on his memory. They'd been in the forest for so long that her sensible haircut, which had already begun to curl at the edges when he'd taken her away from the Abbey, had now grown into an untamed reddish-gold cloud. At one time, he'd been able to chase his lustful thoughts away by imagining her clad in wimple and habit, but of course, that tactic was no longer available to him. Nor could he go out into the stormy night to chop wood.

It was another restless hour or two before he fell into an agitated sleep, sweating and trembling through vivid dreams of a woman: her soft skin against his, her nails digging into his back and her low moans in his ear. He strained for even a glimpse of Agathe's lovely face, but to his horror, when the dream woman – who had now situated herself between his legs – looked up at him with an impish grin, it wasn't Agathe after all.

Georg snapped awake in the dark cave and stumbled out into the dim light of early morning, shamefully aroused and irrationally angry at Fraulein Maria, who presumably slumbered on in the cottage just up the path, unaware and damnably innocent.

Although the weather had cleared, his mood didn't improve any when, for the second day in a row, Leo failed to materialize at their meeting place. How long would they be marooned in Italy? The Germans were hot on his trail, and in another few weeks, real winter weather would become a possibility, and the next phase of his plan would become impossible to execute.

When he gave up on Leo and returned to the cottage, the children were bustling about the yard with various chores. It was remarkable, the way the little governess kept them occupied. Although at the moment, she was nowhere to be found.

"Where's your Fraulein?" he asked Kurt, and followed the boy's gesture beyond the sharp precipice that hung over the creek bed. When he drew closer, he could see her standing below him, just at the edge of the water, where it foamed against the sharp rocks that bordered the stream.

"What are you doing there?"

"Watercress!" she announced joyfully. "I spotted it there this morning!" Yanking her skirts high over her knees, she began to pick her precarious way toward the opposite edge of the stream. Swollen by the night's rain, the water eddied fiercely around her, lapping indecently at her bare legs. No garters, no stockings, he though irrelevantly.

"Come out of that water at once!" he bellowed, although he didn't know why, exactly, he was so irritated.

Her forehead wrinkled in confusion.

"But watercress is so nutritious, Captain. I don't know why I didn't spot it before, but here it is, conveniently right here at our fingertips. I mean, _my_ – whoops!" and then there was a flurry of long, pale legs, and a glimpse of her upside-down bottom, as Fraulein Maria vanished from sight.

Georg took an involuntary step forward, preparing to launch himself over the edge and down the steep slope, but she very quickly surfaced, spitting and coughing, but laughing nonetheless, as though the whole thing was some kind of lark. Her hair lay wetly against her forehead, water sparkled in her lashes and on her lips, and – he couldn't drag his eyes away – her dress was plastered to the rest of her.

For whatever reason, whether it was the dress ,or what she wore under it, or the weight she'd lost since leaving the villa – the results were far more revealing than anything he'd glimpsed on that long-ago day she'd swamped the rowboat in the lake. Her legs were even longer than he'd imagined, he could see that now, and despite her slender build, her breasts were temptingly round, and the womanly flare of her hips had him transfixed.

Even better, she knew it. Under his scrutiny, the smile faded from her face, replaced by an expression that was alarmingly, wonderfully, _splendidly_ similar to the one she'd worn that day by the waterfall.

They might have stood there for the rest of the day, held spellbound in each other's gaze, had it not been for his children's chatter, turning first into cries and then screams, ripping through the air.

"Where's Gretl gotten to?"

"Gretl?"

"Where _is_ Gretl?"

" _Gretl!"_

"GRETL!"

And then he _was_ plummeting down the embankment, boots skittering against tree roots and pebbles, plunging into the rushing stream, racing frantically toward his youngest daughter.

The one who couldn't swim.

The water was deeper and colder than he would have thought. Just ahead, he saw Gretl's blonde head bobbing in the water. Once or twice, she slipped below the surface, only to reappear.

The third time, she vanished completely.

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 **Hang on Gretl, Chapter 8 coming soon!**

 **Wayyyy long ago, in the prologue to this story, Elsa mentioned that Max had disappeared. Vanished! At the time, I only included this detail to underscore that the situation with the Germans was already quite dire, creating the need for Georg's hasty and expedient departure. But then a lot of people expressed concern for Max! Among them was bloomandgrow, who, despite the review holiday I've given you, left me a number of kind reviews and exchanged thoughts with me about Max. So here, in her honor, I've resolved the question of Max's fate. It was a chance to reinforce Maria's innocence, too. We may hear more about him later, but I'm not sure.**

 **Thanks to those who indulged my little outburst about Georg not being in love. Lauryn Vi said it better in her wonderful review than I could have said it myself: _"he notices far too much and pushes her away far too often for it to be mere attraction or infatuation - but it feels more like he doesn't WANT to love M to the degree that she's become sort of an unwelcome obsession. His self-abhorrence and guilt and refusal to let go of the past is preventing him from accepting that he deserves love and happiness."_**

 **I can't be that eloquent, but I do acknowledge that in this story, both M &G are, as one reviewer put it, "all over the place." This could just be bad writing on my part, but honestly, it's where I think they are right now. Confused. Both of them. It's gonna get worse before it gets better.**

 **Someone asked how many chapters this story is going to be, and I would say about twelve, but I'm not sure. There may be a rating change in the future, so please follow it if you are over 18 and like that sort of thing. I am pumping out a lot of chapters while on holiday, but please don't give up on me if you get behind on reading, because my pace will slow once I'm back at work.**

 **That line – "I can't beat it," was borrowed from** _ **Manchester by the Sea**_ **, a devastating film about grief that I just saw this year. You will never see nor read a better treatment of the subject.**

 **Don't own, all for love.**


	8. Chapter 8: Fatal Breach

**CHAPTER 8: FATAL BREACH**

His heart pounded with fear and exertion, and his lungs felt as though they would surely burst. Still, Georg swam onward, plunging through the icy stream until, with a last gasping breath, he snatched his daughter from the tumbling water. She lay against his shoulder for a long moment, terrifyingly still, and then she lifted her head and, with an apologetic murmur, vomited profusely all over him.

"It's all right, darling," he said, nearly weeping with relief. "You're safe now. I've got you."

By now, Fraulein Maria was at his side.

"Captain, I-"

"We need to get her warmed up, Fraulein," he barked, clutching Gretl firmly with one arm and using the other to pull himself back up the embankment. The children scattered to carry out their father's orders – to build up the fire inside, to bring blankets, to start water for hot tea.

It was only after Gretl had nodded off by the fire, snug and dry in Liesl's lap, and he had changed into dry clothes himself, that he noticed the little governess shivering silently in the doorway, as though she wasn't sure if she was coming or going. By now, her dripping-wet dress had formed a puddle at her feet.

"Shouldn't you put another dress on?" he scowled.

"I haven't got another one," she said, twisting her hands in her skirt. Beneath her freckles, she had gone disturbingly pale.

"Captain, about what happened-"

"Never mind that," he said curtly, going to rummage in his knapsack for a moment before producing a bottle and pouring a healthy slug into a teacup.

"Fraulein, you will drink this. Louisa, go through your and Liesl's things and find Fraulein Maria some dry clothing."

"What is that?" Fraulein Maria said, eyeing the cup apprehensively.

"Brandy."

"Where did you get it?"

"Does it matter?"

"Captain, I don't-"

"For once in your life, Fraulein, can't you just do as you're told?" he snapped, and felt his eyebrows lift in surprise as she poured the entire contents of the cup down her throat without taking a breath. By the time she took a dry dress from Louisa and went off to the bedroom to change, there was a spot of color in her cheeks, but her eyes remained lifeless.

By midday, when they sat down for dinner, Gretl seemed to have recovered from her ordeal, having reverted to her usual adorable and bratty self, but Georg could see that the same could not be said of Fraulein Maria. She was still deathly pale, and he was reminded of the day he'd taken her from the Abbey, the way her sparkle had gone missing. Dressed in a too-small borrowed frock, she moved wordlessly between the stove and the table, serving him first and then the children, before dropping into her chair and beginning to fidget with her napkin while her eyes remained glued on Gretl.

"Aren't you eating?" he asked. "Liesl, get your Fraulein a plate."

"I'm not hungry, Captain," she murmured.

He raised his eyebrows.

"Well, that's a first," he said, trying for a joke, but eliciting not even the shadow of a smile.

"I think I'll just go get some air," she said, and fled out the back door.

His children stared at him blankly, as though he was supposed to know what to do, so Georg did the only thing he could think to do: he followed Fraulein Maria down the path, toward the woodshed.

"Fraulein-"

She was standing in a patch of weak sunshine, her back to him, and he saw her spine stiffen when he approached.

"Please, Captain. I just need a moment to myself."

When he reached out to rest his hand on her shoulder, she shook it away. Clearly, the situation called for a firm command.

"Fraulein Maria. You will turn around and look at me."

His instincts never having failed him, he wasn't surprised when she obeyed. Her eyes were wet and she dragged her arm across her cheeks.

"Now. Out with it."

She was trembling so fiercely that at first, he could barely understand her.

"Stupid."

"Fraulein, you are not-"

"I am so _stupid._ I should have been watching her more carefully, I should have had someone keep her away from the edge. I'm a complete flibbertigibbet. You are right to blame me."

"Blame you? What makes you think that I-"

Her eyes met his in a wordless rebuke.

"No! What makes you think I - no, no, it wasn't your fault, not at all. I was just – come now, Fraulein Maria. You are many things, but stupid is not one of them. You know very well that children can be careless. They have a way of getting into trouble. Just think of the way Louisa used to climb up that trellis, with a jar of spiders in her hand! And yes, I know all about that."

"Don't you see? Gretl could have-" The little governess collapsed onto the bench and buried her face in her hands. "What would you be saying to me right now, Captain, if things had gone differently?"

"That doesn't matter. Everything turned out well. Gretl is fine. Take it from me, although it seemed like hours to you and me, she wasn't in the water for more than a minute or two. She won't even remember this incident in a week."

She was staring vacantly toward the cottage, as though she hadn't heard him, and the look on her face was so bleak he felt his heart twist. In a thousand years, he could never have imagined Fraulein Maria, that cheerful bundle of optimistic enthusiasm, being this upset about anything. It made him uneasy, and vaguely unhappy.

"Gretl is _fine_ ," he repeated helplessly, looking down at her hunched over herself on the bench.

"But _I_ am not," she muttered.

"Look, Maria. I mean, _Fraulein_ Maria. What happened – of course it was terribly frightening, for all of us, but you've just got to get past it. I know a little bit about facing extreme fear, and I am telling you that you can't let it control you."

She shot him a disbelieving look.

"I don't understand you, Captain. How on earth you can just – you of all people!" she sputtered. "Not all of us are so unfeeling, you know. So- so _callous_. Gretl nearly died, but she's all right after all, so spit-spot, back to work, is that it?"

"Did I ever tell you," Georg said lightly, choosing to ignore the insult, "about how Leo lost his arm?"

Before she could reply, he rushed ahead.

"We'd sunk an enemy vessel. He was the only survivor, and we'd taken him prisoner. Although I was in command, I was also the only man aboard who spoke Italian, so it fell to me to question him. We were only a few hours from port when the enemy retaliated. A hard strike. There was no hope for our vessel and I gave the order to abandon ship. In these situations, it's every man for himself. There are no lifeboats, nothing like that. I was already up above when I remembered Leo, locked in the brig below. He was an enemy combatant, of course, but I just couldn't-"

By now, the tears had dried on her cheeks, and she was watching him, frowning.

"I went back down and released him. We were making our way across the engine room when the second hit came. A fatal breach, with water pouring in from all sides. I heard a scream and turned to find that a piece of machinery had come loose and slid across the room, pinning Leo's arm to the wall. There was water everywhere, and blood-"

A wave of remembered fear hit him with surprising strength, and he took a moment to compose himself, taking a seat next to her on the bench before proceeding.

"I found a bar to use as a lever and began prying him free. The water was flooding the engine room, it was up above our waists now, we could hear explosions all around us, and he was screaming, praying, begging me to leave him and get myself to safety, but-"

"Captain," she broke in, sounding, he was relieved to note, quite a bit calmer. Maybe _too_ calm. Almost annoyed. "Captain, what is the _point_ of this story? To remind me that, while I am a coward, _you_ are a national hero, not only a fine man but a brave one?"

"The point," he took a deep breath, "the point, Fraulein, is that I _wasn't_ brave. I was terrified!"

When he glanced at her, she seemed unimpressed, so he raised the stakes and offered another one of his rare confidences. "Do you want to know how scared I was? I _wet_ myself!"

She made a strangled little sound – of amusement? Disgust? Sympathy?

"I had a wife and two small children waiting back in Austria. And another child on the way! 'Don't do anything stupid, Georg,' that's what Agathe always told me, yet that was exactly what I'd chosen to do. But I stayed. I ordered Leo to shut the hell up, that if he didn't stop his bellowing, I'd abandon him, and that if he had to do something, he should sing. Eventually – well, we got out, although Leo lost his arm, and I gained a lifelong and loyal friend."

Fraulein Maria regarded him skeptically.

"The _point_ ," he clarified, "is that when I returned to port, they gave me a new submarine, and two days later, I had to go back out to sea and act as if nothing had happened, and do it convincingly enough that the crew would obey me without question. I had to do that time and time again during my service. And that's what you're going to do, Fraulein Maria. You're going to march back up that path to the cottage, and carry on as the fine, brave governess we both know you to be. That," he finished, " _that_ is the point."

"What did he sing?"

"Of all the - I beg your pardon?"

"Leo. What did he sing?"

"A sea chantey," he replied promptly. "About a woman who – ehrm-"

"Who meets a man, I assume?" she said dryly.

"No. I mean, yes, but-"

There was no way he'd tell her the rest, and she wouldn't probably wouldn't believe him if he did.

"Does their story have a happy ending or a sad one?"

"Oh, happy," Georg said firmly. " _Very_ happy."

"Anyone else would have left Leo for dead," she said quietly, and the admiration shining out of her blue eyes made him feel sick. Why did she have to be so damned idealistic? The man in that story was dead, just like the wife he'd buried.

"I _am_ sorry, Captain. About losing sight of Gretl. I've caused so _much_ trouble for you. This wasn't the half of it."

"What kind of talk is that? Have you forgotten the way things were before you came to us? You put my family back together. I'll never be able to thank you enough for that. How is that trouble?"

"You were forced to marry me. Reverend Mother practically threw me at you."

"And I could never have gotten the children out of Austria without you. Not to mention survived the last weeks in hiding here. You've got it all wrong. You're not trouble, you're – our savior, really. You're a bright girl, kind and clever and -"

He stopped himself from piling on adjectives that would have quickly become unsuitable, and they sat in silence for a while, Georg savoring the fresh, warm scent of her presence next to him in the cool autumn air. Perhaps, he thought, it would cheer her up to talk about her future, after they got out of this place.

"The wait has taken its toll on all of us. Just try to think about what a relief it will be to put all of this behind you, Fraulein, and of all there is to look forward to."

"You're not going to start up on the topic of marriage, are you? For the last time, Captain, I am _not_ getting married to anyone. Anyone else, I mean. Being married to you will have been quite enough," she added with flicker of a smile.

He was relieved to see her mood brightening. It occurred to him that she could probably use some advice on her plans from someone older and wiser, especially if she refused to do the prudent thing and get herself married off.

"If you don't marry, then perhaps you can go to school. Or travel."

She stretched her long legs out in front of her, kicked off her shoes, and wriggled her toes.

"Well, I've been thinking about that. I think I'll go to Vienna after all. Even if that teaching job didn't open up, another is bound to, and thanks to you, I'll have a little cushion to live on in the meantime."

"Vienna? Somehow I always thought of you as the type who would want to settle in the mountains. Twirling about meadows, that sort of thing."

"Oh, yes, I _do l_ ove the mountains, of course, Captain. But I have spent my whole life in the shadow of the Untersberg. I have always longed for adventure!" She shot him a cautious sideways look. "Vienna will be a chance to do all the things I've never dared. Go to parties, and nightclubs, and drink champagne, and-"

"You?" Georg scoffed. "You get tiddly on a half-glass of wine!"

"Spoken by the man who forced brandy on me earlier today," she said, dismissing him with an airy wave. "No, I'll get myself a little flat, and some new pretty new clothes. I'm going to make myself a dress just _that_ color," she went on, pointing her bare toes to a scarlet leaf that lay at their feet.

"Red? Not with your hair, not that color," Georg heard himself say. "More like this one," and he bent to find her a golden leaf instead. "And for the evenings, indigo velvet. Like the night sky. With diamonds."

"Where am I going to get diamonds?"

"That's why you'll have to take a lover," he teased her with a companionable shoulder-bump, and then immediately regretted it.

Before he could apologize, she replied with disarming innocence.

"Why would I want to do that?"

He blinked.

"Why would you take a lover?"

"Yes."

"Because – ehrm - because it's enjoyable? Amusing? Fun?"

"Fun for men, you mean." She wrinkled her nose. "That sort of thing is _definitely_ not for me."

"How would you know?" he laughed despite himself.

"For heaven's sake, Captain. I wasn't born at Nonnberg Abbey, you know. I've had boyfriends. I just don't see what all the fuss is about."

"If you'd had a proper boyfriend, we wouldn't be having this conversation, because you would know what the _fuss,_ as you put it, is all about. You are _totally_ unprepared for that kind of life. If you go off to Vienna without a better understanding of – of – of _things,_ I don't even want to think about what might happen to you."

He wasn't sure which he disliked more: _her_ fantasy life in Vienna – he couldn't make up his mind if she was seriously considering such a plan - or _his_ idea of seeing her married off to a man who would give her babies. But what really disturbed Georg was how easily she lost confidence in herself. He watched with dismay as her shoulders slumped and she fell silent. His remarks had only been intended to protect her, to warn her, not to demoralize her.

"I know, she said in a small voice, sliding her hands under her opposite sleeves as if to comfort herself with a hug. "It was just a silly dream, anyway. I'll probably just go back to Salzburg and wait for adventure to find me. I mean, really," she said, looking down ruefully at her rough dress, "just look at me."

"I am," he blurted, more forcefully than he meant to.

Fraulein Maria looked up at him through her lashes, and something feminine flickered in her eyes, like she'd just figured something out.

He felt a lurch in his chest, unexpected and unbidden, and began to babble.

"I didn't mean to suggest – why, I'm sure you'll do very well in Vienna! All I was trying to say is that you'll need to prepare. With some new clothes that – ehrm – fit you, and with your hair all-"

"What's _wrong_ with my hair?" she said suspiciously.

"Nothing! It's – it's quite nice, actually, the way it's grown longer since – since you left us."

"It was long when I was a girl," she said uncertainly, "I mean, not that I'm a girl anymore."

"No. No," he cleared his throat. "You're not."

His hand took on a mind of its own and lifted to ghost over her bright, rumpled curls, to smooth away a damp tendril that lay against her neck. When he felt her shiver beneath his fingertips, he snatched his hand away as though he'd been burned. He knew he ought to stand up and put some distance between them, or at least tear his eyes away from her, but he couldn't manage to do much besides jam his fists together in his lap and shift uneasily in his seat.

The cool autumn breeze had stilled until, without the rustle of trees and the skittering of leaves across the ground, the silence shouted at them.

"Captain?"

"What is it?"

"Now that you know about me – I mean, that I'm not going back to Nonnberg – I was wondering if this time, you might be willing to-?"

Her eyes dropped to his mouth and then traveled up to catch his gaze.

"To what?"

"Kiss me. To give me some practice."

His mouth went dry.

"I - I'm not sure that's a good idea, Fraulein."

"Why not?"

"It's generally not a good idea to play with fire. Not unless you want to get burned."

"You're a fine one to talk, Captain," she said, so knowingly that his heart nearly stopped. How could someone be so naïve and so perceptive all at once?

The moment stretched between them, tense with anticipation.

"Well. I – I suppose I _could_ consider it," he said, glancing up the path toward the cottage, playing for time, pretending to ponder an idea that had already set his blood simmering.

In the next moment, without warning, the little governess pressed her mouth to his.

It was nothing more than a brief, tantalizing brush. Not even a kiss, not really. In the aftermath, Georg had the oddest feeling, as though something had been stolen from him. For some reason, that innocent kiss had shaken him deeply. He had gotten a passing impression of softness and warmth that he yearned to confirm.

"How was that? I mean, was – was I all right?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, of course," he assured her. There was no kind way to tell her that it hadn't been a very satisfying experience.

"Oh, good."

They both looked down at her bare feet as they shuffled against the dry leaves.

"Why?" he asked cautiously. "Are you disappointed?"

"No, it's just-"

"Just what?"

"Everyone makes such a lot of _fuss_ about kissing. Perhaps I'm just not the type for it."

Deep inside, Georg felt something give way.

A fatal breach, and now it was every man for himself.

"Oh, for God's sake," he muttered, and then before he could let himself think too hard about what he was doing, he rose to his feet, took her hand and dragged her around the woodshed, out of sight of the cottage.

Then he hauled her against him, hard, locked his arms around her waist, and covered her mouth with his.

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 **Yay! At last!**

 **I had SO much trouble deciding whether to end here (because drama) or give my patient readers more, but lemacd had some wise advice for me: stop where I think it works** **(here!)** **but give you another update very quickly. So watch for Chapter 9 very very very soon.**

 **TSOM movie fans will get the significance of Gretl throwing up.**

 **There's a little nod to my other fandom in here (the one I will never write for), anyone see it?**

 **I smell a rating change in the air! Not quite yet but very soon. Fair warning. If you are under 18 or don't like that kind of thing, PM me and I will happily make sure I get back to you about the rest of what happens. For the rest of you, you will only know about updates if you follow this story (or me).**

 **Thank you to everyone who has left me such thoughtful and sweet reviews, despite the review holiday. I cherish every one even if I'm not replying to them. Also a nod of thanks to Mr. Augiesannie who is encouraging his wife to devote so much of their holiday to this story!**

 **I don't own the Sound of Music or anything about it, I do this for love.**


	9. Chapter 9: Anticipation

**CHAPTER 9: ANTICIPATION**

Everything was happening so fast, the sensations coming at Maria faster than she could absorb them. There was his taste, and the surprisingly tender shape of his mouth, and the scrape of his stubbled chin. There was the way he dragged her upward into his embrace until her bare toes danced on the ground. She nearly recoiled from the force of it, but he didn't let up, introducing one new variation after another: one moment, he was biting at her lips and at the next, he was pushing his tongue against hers.

She couldn't keep her hands from going to the back of his neck, as though she'd always longed for the chance to twist them into his thick and surprisingly soft hair. When he responded by thrusting his lower body into hers, Maria had no control over the embarrassing little groan that rose from the back of her throat.

As suddenly as their kiss had begun, it ended. Without warning the Captain lifted his mouth from hers and dropped his hands from her waist, leaving her to sway unsteadily on her feet.

"There you go, Fraulein." he said hoarsely, taking a step back from her while his shoulders heaved with the effort to draw breath. "When you go off to _Vienna_ ," he bit out the word, "try to remember one thing: if it brings you no pleasure, you've got the wrong man. Is it safe for me to assume that _now_ you understand all the _fuss_?"

"Y-yes," Maria choked. "I think I do."

"You _think_ you do?' his eyes flashed a threat, and she saw his hands twitch by his sides.

"I mean, I _know_ I do," she said hastily.

Maria wasn't sure _what_ she knew anymore, other than how you could want a man, the very same man you'd despised only days before, to kiss you again and again. She put her fingers to her lips, which felt so tender and sensitive she gave them a pinch.

"Don't do that," he said sharply.

"Why not?"

"Because it makes me want to-"

"All right!" She dropped the offending hand to her side. "Can I ask something else, Captain?"

He arched an eyebrow and that dangerous gleam reappeared in his eyes.

"You want something more from me? That wasn't enough?"

"I just want you to answer a question," she flushed.

Looking very pleased with himself, he crossed his arms against his chest and leaned casually against the woodshed.

"All right, then, what is it?"

"You've been with lots of women, haven't you?"

Without warning, his face shuttered closed, and the air between them filled with frost.

"That, Fraulein, is none of your concern."

"I know it's not. I was just wondering, you know, what it's like."

"I do not wish to discuss my personal affairs in this manner," he said stiffly.

"To kiss so many _different_ women," she persisted.

Despite his annoyance, Georg had to bite back a grin.

" _Kiss_ them?"

"I mean, I'm sure you did more than kiss them. But isn't it embarrassing?"

When Fraulein Maria wrinkled her nose, it was so adorable that, despite himself, he roared with laughter.

"Embarrassing? Is that what you think it was?"

"How many of them were there?"

"You think I counted? What kind of man would do that?"

"The kind of man who goes to bed with dozens of women," she retorted, and then looked comically shocked that she had.

"It wasn't dozens," he said, although he thought it very well might have been, "and anyway, Fraulein, despite your new-found expertise in kissing, you can't possibly understand. Let me tell you something about those women. I didn't take advantage of them. Quite the contrary. I showed them how to take their pleasure, without having to wait for some oaf to figure out things for them."

There was a long silence, one full of promise, like an unfinished sentence. The afternoon, which been so cool, so calm and still and clear, was suddenly charged with possibility, the air grown heavy, pulsing and shimmering with heat and glowing light.

"Show me," she whispered.

"What?"

"I want you to show me. The rest of it." The tremble in her voice faded as she continued. "I mean, I always thought that kind of thing – you know, kissing and everything, that it was just for men. I can see that I was wrong about the kissing – oh, please, don't laugh at me!"

"I am _not_ laughing. Not even a little."

"I was wrong about the kissing, I admit it." Her fingers returned to her lips. "But about the rest of it - I'll find out one way or the other, you know. After I get to Vienna."

"Fraulein," he swallowed past the enormous boulder that was lodged in his throat. "Do you mean to tell me that you are asking me to –?"

"Why not?"

His little governess was a quick learner. Now that she had figured out the effect she had on him when she looked up at him from beneath her dark fringe of lashes, she wielded this newfound skill like a weapon.

"Because, that's why not. Absolutely out of the question. I couldn't possibly! I promised Reverend Mother to return you the way I found you. Untouched."

"But I'm not going back to Nonnberg," she argued. "You _know_ that. And we _are_ married, after all."

From the day she'd arrived in Aigen, Fraulein Maria had been nothing if not persistent. It was one of her most admirable, if maddening, qualities, he remembered, but with a sinking feeling. Only now did Georg realize, too late, that she had turned the tables on him.

Already, the idea was starting to seem dangerously reasonable. There was no denying the connection between them. When he'd had her in his arms, if her response had been clumsy, it had also been fearless. This whole situation was partly his doing, for having flirted so irresponsibly with her all summer, and as long as they agreed that their hearts were not part of the bargain, why not?

If you thought about it, Fraulein Maria had actually done a great deal for him, reconciling his children to him and leading them out of Austria, and wasn't this something he could give her in return? After all, another man could leave her with a baby. Or a gruesome disease. He knew how to avoid both, and how to make her comfortable and put her at ease. It was an honor, really, the trust she was putting in him.

"Never mind," she broke into his thoughts, her cheeks gone pink with embarrassment. He had taken too long to respond, and the moment was lost.

"Just forget about it, Captain, would you? I shouldn't even have brought it up. I'm sure I can figure things out on my own. I'll just have to find someone else to help me. Of course, he won't be my _husband_."

She shuffled back into her shoes and stalked off, while his mind raced ahead to another solution. It occurred to him that surely he could show the little governess a thing or two about pleasure without taking things to their logical conclusion. He was quite certain he had the willpower to manage it. It would be a noble sacrifice, to be sure, but a worthwhile one.

She would be warm and soft and _perfect._

"Wait! Hold on, Fraulein."

She kept moving. In another few steps, they'd be too close to the cottage to continue this conversation.

"Maria!"

At the sound of her given name, she went perfectly still, but didn't turn around, forcing him to make an indecent proposition to her back.

"You're right. If anyone's going to lead you into temptation, it had better be me. I have another idea. I can't – ehrm – I can't do as you ask, not exactly, anyway, but I _could_ show you a thing or two."

She turned to face him, looking utterly, fetchingly bewildered.

"I don't understand."

Georg had a rich and bawdy vocabulary, but nothing suitable for this occasion. "Of course you don't," he said confidently, "but you will. All you need to know is that it will be _spectacular_." Of that, he was suddenly quite certain.

He waited for her to call him on his arrogance and high handedness, but her boldness had vanished, leaving her bashfully fidgeting with her skirt. What a joy it would be to kiss and touch her everywhere!

"Where?" she said.

"Where would I – oh! You mean where we would meet, not where will I - well. There's a little cave, about twenty paces past the waterfall, on the left. You can find the entrance just behind a stand of birches. I'll wait for you there tonight, after everyone is asleep."

"All right," she said shyly, "I think I can manage that."

She turned back toward the cottage before he stopped her again.

"Fraulein? I mean, Maria."

"Yes, ehrm - Captain?"

"It's just this once, you understand. And it doesn't mean anything has changed between us. We're just good friends, correct?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she shouted at him. "I thought we agreed to put all of that behind us!"

Then she stomped off toward the cottage, leaving him to wonder if he'd ruined his chances.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

He chopped wood for most of the afternoon, and then spent the last hour before supper readying the cave, and himself. He even took the time to shave, and the whole time, he was tense with uncertainty about whether she was going to follow through. The little menace! He ought to have kept his mouth shut!

 _Vienna?_

Put her innocent charms up against the deplorable bores that thronged its glittering salons? A depraved lot, all of them. Why, she wouldn't last a week there! Golden-haired and freckled, long legged, awkward as a colt, strong and supple, cheerful and patient and kind, with a voice like an angel's: she belonged _here,_ with the trees and birds and flowers.

Up until now, the cave had been his refuge, the place he went out of a desperate need to escape her tempting, tormenting presence. But there was no escape to be had, for she had stolen inside him like a dangerous vapor. Tonight, if all went as planned, the cave would fill with the sights, sounds and scents of the little governess. He would do his best to give her pleasure, to make her happy.

If, that is, he didn't throttle her first.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Could this be happening to her?

Maria's confident chatter about making a life for herself in Vienna had been meant half in jest. How could _anything_ possibly prepare a girl like her – a mountain girl who'd spent three years living in a convent - for a life of champagne, red dresses and diamonds? Yet at the time, it had seemed crucial, somehow, to convince him that she was quite serious about the whole Vienna undertaking.

And he had taken her at her word! In the midst of her idle talk about Vienna, as fanciful and naïve as one of Brigitta's stories, something had shifted between them, almost as though she had, without trying, taken the upper hand from the Captain. When she looked up at him, trying to read his face, the look he'd given her in return nearly sent her up in flames. Which in turn had further fueled her confidence, stoked her burning curiosity, and led her straight into his trap. Or had he fallen into hers?

" _I showed them how to take their pleasure_ ," he had said. What did that even mean?

All summer, she had felt his pull, a magnetic force nearly overpowering. While here in the forest, she had learned enough about him to have abandoned her vague, girlish crush on the Captain, but apparently not enough to stay out of trouble. That kiss had ignited something in her, something reckless, something fierce and wild. And if the Captain's sudden and headlong pursuit of her was intimidating in its intensity, it was also completely irresistible. The thrilling and unsettling image of him at the waterfall, his powerful body turning toward her, and the expression he'd worn – yes, she was too far gone to back out now.

She reminded herself it wouldn't be a sin to go with him. They _were_ married, after all, put together by Reverend Mother herself. Three years ago, Maria had readily chosen a life of chastity over marriage, which might be a sacrament in God's eyes, but which in her experience, promised only conflict and cruelty. So she hadn't been lying to Captain von Trapp about her lack of interest in marriage, but there was no denying that their current circumstances were convenient. A girl's first time was never easy, she knew that, and she also knew in her heart that he would never harm her.

Maria had only one regret, a small one: when he had refused to discuss his colorful past, she wished she'd demanded an answer to one last question about the women he'd been with after his wife died: _how could you do that, if you loved your wife so much?_ While Captain von Trapp's heart might be broken, apparently the rest of him worked quite fine. Maybe after tonight, she'd understand the answer to that question without having to ask him. After tonight, she might be a different sort of person entirely.

She was also perfectly, deliciously aware that their last exchange had left him dangling, and when the Captain returned to the cottage for supper, freshly shaved and clean-shirted, Maria savored the unfamiliar and sweet ownership of the upper hand. Conscious of his unwavering attention as she directed preparations for the meal, she took a great deal of pride in her composure, careful to give him no hint of the nervous flutter of curiosity and excitement that beat, like the wings of a butterfly, in her chest.

"Friedrich, stir the fire, please."

The Captain's eyes followed her around the kitchen.

"Kurt, Marta, set the table, will you?"

Captain von Trapp just a little bit too close to her as she piled apples in a bowl.

"Louisa, please stir the soup. Liesl, unwrap the cheese."

When she went to slice the bread, he was there to hand her the knife, letting his fingers brush against hers.

"Gretl, you may put the cake on the table, but carefully, please."

With soup steaming on the stove, and cake freshly out of the oven, and all the activity, the cottage grew stiflingly warm. When Maria went to push the door open to the evening air, the Captain was suddenly right behind her, using his height and breadth to urge her through the door and across the porch until her hands met the railing. His hands bracketed hers, boxing her in from behind, and his breath tickled her ear.

"You haven't changed your mind, Maria, have you?"

He slid one booted foot between her two feet and edged them apart. Maria had no idea why, but this gesture turned her knees to jelly.

"Captain, someone's going to see!"

"No one will notice a thing, unless you make a fuss. Although you seem to have liked making a fuss, remember?" he purred. "Perhaps I ought to kiss you again, as a reminder."

He lifted the damp curls from her neck and pressed his hot mouth to her nape, until she felt the sensation, bright and sharp, flooding throughout her body. She tried not to respond to that touch, but it was impossible to keep still.

A puff of laughter against her skin.

"If you're trying to get me to stop, you ought to stop squirming like that. It's not helping your cause. Just slide a little to the right, if you wouldn't mind."

"Are you mad?" she choked, struggling for breath.

"What I am _not_ is patient. I want to kiss you again. I _am_ going to kiss you again, so here's your choice, Maria. I can do it right here, where you fear we are in plain sight, or you can slide a few steps to the right where you can be certain no one will see us. Do it. Now. Please."

While her mind was busy rebelling against being ordered around, and her heart was considering the matter of kisses, Maria's treacherous feet obeyed.

When they were safely out of sight, he turned her around, eyes sparkling with wicked merriment. With great care, he wound one of her curls around his finger and tugged, pulling her toward him, slowly, so slowly, until he had brought her mouth to his.

It was a different kind of kiss, disappointingly short and not demanding at all, more of a luring kiss, like a promise. When he was finished, he let her go with a deep chuckle that vibrated throughout her body.

Maria had completely lost the upper hand to her Captain. If, of course, she'd ever really had it in the first place.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Supper went by in a blur. Gretl was reassuringly back to normal, and in the aftermath of her accident, the rest of the children were both jubilant and unusually kind to each other. Maria picked at her food, struggled to follow any one of the six conversations going on at once, and failed to answer any question directed at her. Fortunately, the overall level of chaos allowed her behavior to go unremarked, except by the Captain, who needled her throughout the meal.

"Haven't we forgotten to thank the Lord, Fraulein?"

"Have another slice of cake, Fraulein. We need you to keep up your strength, you know."

"Do you always put jam in your soup, Fraulein? Is that something they taught you at the Abbey?"

He teased her so mercilessly that Brigitta burst into tears, while Friedrich reproached him, "Fraulein Maria is still very upset, Father, _must_ you go on this way?"

After that, he sent the children outside and volunteered to do the dishes himself.

"I didn't know you knew how to wash dishes," she snapped, but he just laughed.

"We didn't have kitchen maids on submarines, you know. And I wanted to keep an eye on you so you don't slip away," he said, but smugly, as though he knew it wasn't necessary, as though he understood perfectly well that by now, her skin was crawling with anticipation.

Dreadful man.

"Here's the last one for you to dry," he said, extending a plate toward her, but when she reached for it, he snatched it away and took her hand instead, drawing a finger across her palm that sparked a line of fire she felt to the tips of her fingers and toes.

The hour remaining before bedtime ticked by with agonizing slowness, but at last the Captain, as he had every night during their time in the forest, summoned his family to his side, took up the guitar, and sang them the edelweiss song.

"I'm off. I'll see you later," he said, striding toward the door.

"You mean, tomorrow, Father, don't you?"

"Yes, Marta. Exactly. I'll see _you_ tomorrow."

And then, with the very quickest of winks sent in Maria's direction, he was gone.

She did her best to keep her mind clear and her hands steady as she led the children through face-washing and tooth brushing and prayers, with special thanks offered for Gretl's safety.

But the whole time, she felt the trail of that finger as though it had been burned into her palm, and the unsettling sensation of his foot pushing its way between hers.

 _We need you to keep up your strength, you know._

After settling the youngest girls in the big bed, she mended Kurt's socks while listening to Brigitta's latest story idea, before announcing, casually,

"Such a lovely evening. I think I'll take a walk myself."

The children were still wary and solicitous after the morning's terrible fright. So when she added, "It might be quite a _long_ walk, so you needn't wait up for me," Friedrich sent a reassuring smile her way before returning to his card game with Liesl.

How long would the whole thing take, anyway? she wondered.

Maria carried a small lantern, but the dark forest pressed in on her from every side. As she made her way through the forest and toward the cave, every small sound – animals rustling in the underbrush, the rush of the treacherous creek nearby, night insects buzzing – was amplified into something menacing. Or perhaps it was her fear of what waited for her in the cave.

I am _not_ afraid, she told herself.

By the time she neared her destination, her heart as pounding so loud in her ears that she could no longer hear the insects' drone, the rustle of leaves, or even the roar of the waterfall.

The familiar baritone made her jump.

"There you are!"

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

 **For those who commented on the "Easter eggs" in the last chapter:**

 **Congrats to those who remembered that IRL, Kym Karath (Gretl) threw up on Heather Menzies (Louisa) during filming of the rowboat scene.**

 **And kudos to those** _ **50 Shades**_ **fans who recognized the lines:**

" **I mean, just look at me."**

" **I am."**

 **(There are things I love about FSOG but I can't see myself ever writing fanfic about it).**

 **Thank you very much for your reviews, and Mr. Augiesannie says thank you too.**

 **Hold onto your hats! Time for the rating change!**

 **I don't own TSOM or anything about it.**


	10. Chapter 10: The Cave

**CHAPTER TEN: THE CAVE**

"So you survived the trip! Getting here was the most difficult part, I promise," the Captain greeted her with a smile in his voice.

Maria was surprised to see him still wearing the open-necked shirt and trousers he'd worn at supper, although now he was barefoot. What had she expected? She shook away the image of him standing under the waterfall.

"I'm not late, am I? I'm sorry, but I wanted to be sure they-" Maria flustered. "Did you think I'd changed my mind?"

"No, no. It's fine. I knew you'd come," he said, with an odd little smirk she couldn't quite make sense of.

"So this is where you've been hiding every night?"

"M-hm." He rubbed his hands together. "Come see my quarters."

"Your lair, you mean," she said, rolling her eyes. But she followed him, ducking low beneath a stone outcropping and edging through a dark, damp-smelling channel worn through the rock.

The channel opened into a small area, just high enough to allow him to stand upright, and just wide enough for a pallet of piled quilts and a small bench that held a flickering lantern. Within its circle of light, the space was warm and cozy, as though any doubts and worries could be chased into the cave's shadowy corners. The bench also held a bottle, and the carved wooden box she'd brought to Italy for him. Maria thought of her wedding ring, resting within, barely worn.

"Well, then," she heard the Captain's voice close behind her, and her heart leapt, to have him so near. He hadn't even laid a hand on her, and already Maria felt dizzy and short of breath. The butterfly wings in her chest beat frantically now, with apprehension and longing both. When she felt his fingertips brush her shoulders, she promptly turned toward him and lifted her face for a kiss, one that could quiet the thoughts that raged like wildfire in her mind.

But he didn't kiss her; instead, he grasped her shoulders, held her away from him, at arms' length, and looked her over hungrily, fixing her with a smoldering blue gaze as tangible and powerful as the most bruising kiss could ever be. Her lips burned and tingled, as though he _had_ kissed her,. When she lifted her fingers to her mouth, he raised his eyebrows in a silent rebuke and she dropped them to her side, chastened like a naughty child.

Smiling, he lifted his thumb to stroke her lower lip, sliding it into her open mouth and waiting, patiently, until she understood what was required of her and closed her lips around it. When he withdrew his thumb, he gave her lower lip a gentle pinch, a gesture she found at once unnerving and extremely thrilling.

"Like that." he whispered knowingly, a statement not a question.

"But you said not to."

"I have my own rules," he chuckled, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her close.

Despite herself, Maria went stiff in his arms, and instantly, his expression changed.

"Maria?"

He kept his arms loosely linked around her waist, but backed up a step. His eyes still searched her face, but all the fire was gone from them now, leaving them warm with concern.

"Are you all right? Do you still want to be here? Because if you're afraid, it's perfectly all right to-"

"I am _not_ afraid," she said weakly.

And she _wasn't_ afraid of lying with him, not exactly. It was more that she dreaded making a fool of herself. Not knowing what to do. Not knowing how to please him.

"Oh, yes you are, Fraulein - ehrm- Maria. When you're afraid, you do that thing with your chin," and he tilted his to demonstrate. "Now tell me, what exactly are you so nervous about?"

"I don't know," Maria said miserably. "I mean I do know. It's that don't know what to _do,_ " she confessed. "I don't know how to-" a wave of excruciating shyness broke over her. Helpless against it, she covered her face with her hands and prayed that he wouldn't send her away.

"Oh, but I _do_ ," he said. "I know _exactly_ what to do. I've given it considerable thought, as it happens."

His voice was deep and rich, like dark velvet. Full of promise. Under the circumstances, what might have sounded like arrogance or boasting was, in a funny way, almost comforting.

"It was very brave of you to come, Maria, and I swear you won't regret it. And speaking of bravery," he reached for the bottle, pulled the cork and took a long swallow from it, the muscles in his throat working, before extending it to her. "Brandy?" he offered.

"Ehrm-"

"Just a sip, for your nerves," he advised with a little wink, and she took a cautious sip, feeling the burn in her throat and the warmth in her unsettled belly.

"If it's for nerves, why do _you_ need it, then?"

"Me?" The Captain gave her a skeptical look. "You think I'm not nervous? It might put you at ease to know that I've wanted you for a long time. A very long time. His eyes flicked over her body, as though he was already familiar with it, as though he'd already seen her naked, not the other way around.

"I know. I mean, we discussed it, Captain, and we agreed-"

He flinched.

"Georg," he corrected her, "and I'm not sure you _do_ understand it. How every little thing you do is enough to drive a man mad. Sometimes I would look at you and wonder if you were even real. It wouldn't surprise me a bit to learn that you're one of those mythical sirens that lure men, entice them, seduce them into- You have had me under some kind of spell all summer. The truth-"

He paused for another drink.

"The truth, Maria, is that I want you every possible way a man could possibly want a woman, in ways that would shock you."

Maria's bones turned to water.

"Oh, please," she burst out.

"Please what?" his lips quirked a smile.

"Please don't _talk_ about it that way," she begged.

"All right, then. We'll stop talking and do something instead. Now. Let's start at the very beginning. We've got to get you out of that awful dress."

"Do I have to?"

His eyes danced with merriment.

"That's usually how it's done, yes, but – hm. Let me see if I can make it easier for you."

He circled behind her again and wrapped his arms securely around her waist. In this position, away from the treacherous threat in those blue eyes, she was able to relax against him. As he had on the porch, he pressed his lips firmly against her nape and held them there, until warmth slid through her veins.

"I had no idea," she whispered.

"Idea?"

"The extent of your – ehrm – lustful feelings for me."

He chuckled softly and let his mouth drift across her neck. When his tongue began to trace the outline of her ear, she felt herself drift away on a sea of sensation.

"Better?"

He had rendered her nearly speechless, but Maria managed a strangled little sound that seemed to suffice.

"So many things I want to do to you," he murmured.

He slid his big hands upward to cover her breasts, squeezing firmly and then dragging his fingertips, hard, back toward the tips, a touch that burned all the way through the thick material of her dress.

Her breath came out on a long, shuddering moan.

"So you like a firm hand, do you? I suspected as much. Or is this better?"

She shifted restlessly in his arms, seeking more of that solid, delicious pressure. But he denied her: as his fingers drifted lower over her belly and hips, his touch became playfully, frustratingly, feather-light.

Maria couldn't hold back a little whimper as she followed those fingers with her entire body, yearning for _more_.

"All right, then. You'd rather have this, would you?"

He slipped his hand between her legs and cupped her there, tightly, right _there_ , and the friction of the roughly made dress rubbing against her sent a lightning bolt of pleasure everywhere.

"Oh, please," she cried out.

"What is it, love?"

 _Please touch me that way everywhere. Please I wish my dress weren't in the way. Please don't stop._

"Please _."_

"Please what?"

"Please Captain."

"It's Georg. And that's please who. I'm asking please what."

"Please I don't know."

He laughed and withdrew his hand.

"I don't know," Maria swallowed. "I _don't_ know! You've done this before, and I haven't. You know what to do, so why can't you just take charge of things?"

He was silent for so long she thought she'd said something wrong.

"Captain?"

"It's Georg," he said in a thick voice. "And that's a _very_ dangerous thing to say to a man."

"Would you mind?" she said.

"No," he said, still in that soft, deep voice, unsettling and promising all at once. "I'd like that very much. You wouldn't be here if you didn't trust me, and that's the only thing you've got to do. Leave the rest to me."

Maria didn't want to believe it, but after a lifetime of disobedience in matters large and small, and months of rebellion against this man's authority in particular, his confidence, his talk of rules and taking charge of things, was strangely reassuring. It _was_ a relief of sorts to have handed things over to him, and her doubts and worries along with it. She wouldn't make a fool of herself, because he would tell her what to do, how to please him. Somewhere within, there was also a flicker of excitement at the knowledge that, although she wasn't quite sure how, _he_ was going to please _her_ as well.

By now, he had lifted her dress over her head and peeled away her undergarments. She shivered as his finger burned a trail down her spine and felt her cheeks turn pink when he briefly fondled her bottom. When he turned her around, she went into his arms, eager to surrender her mouth to his. But before she knew it, he was urging her toward the quilts piled on the floor. She let him settle her there, fighting a wave of embarrassment as he pulled her crossed arms from her breasts.

"No, no. Let me see you. It's only fair, after all. You've already seen me."

There _was_ something disturbing about the contrast between her bare skin, glowing in the dimly lit cave, and his rough clothing. But she found it impossible to disobey that voice.

He crawled over her like a powerful, predatory animal. His mouth slid against her throat, licking and nipping gently at her skin, making his way lower. The hot tug of his mouth at her breast pulled at a cord that seemed anchored between her legs, and forced a cry from her mouth. She pressed a fist to her mouth to stop the sound.

He took one last nip of her skin before rising up on his knees and yanking her hand away.

"I want to hear you scream for me."

"I wasn't _screaming_ ," Maria made a feeble protest.

"You will," he said with a humorless grin. "Much sooner than you think. And there's no one to hear you, anyway."

He peered down at her, his dark blue eyes gleaming against his flushed face.

"Now. My rules, remember? Don't take your eyes from me, Maria. If you close them, I'll stop. And the more noise you make, the better."

He swept his hands up and down her arms, across her breasts and past her belly. Pleasure blossomed under his fingertips with every stroke, firm and knowing, and she felt herself tighten against the exquisite sensations. Soon, he would want to touch her between her legs, and she would die of embarrassment if he did that. At the same time, she was certain she would die of disappointment if he didn't. Surely he intended to. He would have to, wouldn't he? If they were going to -

She kept her eyes glued to his face, so she didn't miss the impish sparkle there when he bypassed her midsection entirely, sat back on his heels and lifted her foot into his lap, massaging it gently, rolling her toes in his fingers, pressing the arch of her foot into his lap. Her toes curled against a firm bar of flesh she felt there. Maria, pondering this development, thinking back to the afternoon at the waterfall, watched his eyes glaze over and his mouth go slack. But then he shook his head and sent an imperious glare her way.

"Don't try to distract me," he ordered. "Another rule."

"I wasn't, I was just-"

Whatever it was she'd been figuring out fled from her brain entirely when he lifted her foot into the air, kissed the inside of her ankle, and then, with exquisite, torturous care, began to work his way up the inside of her leg, painting a path with his tongue, stopping every few moments to bite at her skin, harder now, until she flinched, only to very quickly wish he'd do it again. The dance continued higher and higher, the nip of his teeth and then the soothing stroke of his tongue and his freshly shaven cheek, again and again. She closed her eyes against the welling rapture.

"Eyes open, Maria."

Despite the blissful feelings, when she looked down and saw his dark head bent against her skin, her legs tried to clamp shut in protest, but he pushed against her other leg with surprising strength.

"Legs too. Open them for me."

He pressed her legs wide open, until they trembled from the strain, and cupped his whole big palm against her center, pushing the heel of his hand right against a place made of fire. She felt hot and achy and needy, and it was embarrassing, the way her body arched against his caress. But the warm admiration in his voice was reassuring.

"You see? Feel how wet you are."

 _Wet?_

"It's all right, love. Your body wants to be touched, just like this. You are so lovely, Maria. Every perfect inch of you. You are so soft here, so soft and perfect. Like a rare and beautiful flower, just about to open."

He stroked her delicately until she _did_ feel herself opening to his caress, sighing with pleasure at the gentle intrusion of a finger. It felt strange. It felt wonderful.

He began to feather kisses up the inside of her legs, first one side and then the other.

"Open wider, love. I'm going to kiss you now."

Maria couldn't quite make sense of his meaning until he touched her with the pointed tip of his tongue.

When she screamed, his head popped up between her knees, eyes sparkling with glee. She was so far past breathless her voice trembled with effort.

"That's _got_ to be a sin," she gasped.

"Why?"

"Because it feels like one."

"No sins here, darling. We're married, remember?" he said darkly. "Scream away," and he began to search her with his mouth, dragging his tongue across her flesh, setting off bursts of blinding pleasure with every flicker and swipe, again and again. When he found a place that made her cry out, he would linger there until the rasp of his tongue grew too intense to bear. She tried to squirm away from his clever mouth, but he only grabbed her firmly by the hips, so she couldn't move, and sealed his lips more firmly against her.

Her blood sang in her ears, nearly drowning out the fierce cries that burst from her lips and echoed against walls of stone. The way he went at her, the frenzied passion of it, released her from shame for those cries, and forgave her for the way she twined her hands in his soft hair and held him to her.

There was nothing in the world but that wicked tongue, seeking out the next place to torment her. It would have sent her soaring straight into the sky if it weren't for his fingers digging into her skin, anchoring her against his hot mouth.

From far away, she heard someone shreiking. The pleasure swelled, pulsing red and purple behind her eyelids. And then it burst, taking her body over in wrenching spasms, wave after wave of them, until the shadowy cave exploded with stars.

When she came back to earth at last, weak and gasping for air, he was stretched out next to her, propped on one elbow, wearing a boyishly proud smile.

"Well?"

"Well," she struggled for breath, "what?"

"Did you like it?"

"I never-"

"Never? You can do that yourself, you know," and when her forehead wrinkled in confusion, he laughed. "Well, not with your mouth, but with your fingers. You never-?"

Maria felt her face split into an elated grin before she launched herself at him.

"That was _marvelous!"_

But then he was gently untwining her arms from his neck and pulling away from her. Her damp skin begin to cool in the chilly air of the cave, and she was suddenly, uncomfortably aware that he was still fully clothed while she was –

"Don't you want to –ehrm- undress?"

"No, I don't think I will, Maria."

"But then how will we-" she gestured awkwardly, "Aren't you going to-"-

"I thought I just did," he teased gently.

"That is not what I mean, and you know it."

In the ensuing long, uncomfortable silence, it was possible to hear the distant rumble of the waterfall.

"You asked me to show you what a woman could experience, and I did as you asked. I was honored that you put your trust in me that way, and I found it extremely rewarding. You are _magnificent,_ Maria. But the other - I can't do that, love. I thought you understood."

A tingle of panic gathered at the base of her spine.

"I understood no such thing! Do you mean to say that you don't want me?"

"Of course I do. I've admitted as much to you, on numerous occasions. And now that I've seen you, and touched you, and tasted you? I'll probably die wanting you. But I promised to leave you untouched."

"But that was when you believed I had pledged my life to God!"

"It's not only that, Maria. For us to be together that way - it would make it impossible to end our marriage."

"But I told you, that doesn't matter! I don't intend to marry again, any more than you do. And I'm probably going to go with some man eventually," she argued, feeling brave and humiliated at the same time.

Now the shadows, dark and forbidding, seemed to press in on them from every corner of the cave. She began trembling uncontrollably, yet he did nothing to comfort her.

"It's not going to happen, Maria. I'm long past denying that there is something between us, but if I – if we do that, it's just going to make things more difficult. You're going to want more. You _deserve_ more. And more is not possible. Not with me. You should wait for someone who can love you properly. Believe me, after a while, you'll forget about me."

"The way you've forgotten about _her_?"

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and Maria took exactly one second to curse her outspokenness before she let the rest of them fly, knowing they would cause her and her Captain more harm than good.

"It didn't stop you with all of those other women. Why them and not me? You gave yourself to them with no trouble, but you're too good for me?"

He deflected her easily enough, at least at first.

"No," he shook his head, " _you're_ too good for _me._ You are different from the others."

"Because I'm _untouched?_ "

She hated the way she sounded, shrill and pitiful.

"You're just not that kind of girl. Woman," he amended.

"The kind that men like you make love to?"

" _Make love_?"

In the space of a moment, his face was instantly and shockingly transformed, twisted with rage in a way she recognized from their argument by the lake, but had never seen since. A spot of color flared high on his cheekbones.

"I did _not_ make love to those women," he shouted, pointing a finger at her.

"Then what do you call it?'

"What do I call it? What do I _call_ it?" he raged. "I tupped them. I swived them. I fu-"

"Please. No, please, don't," she begged, putting her hands to her ears.

Her tender, gallant Captain had vanished into the night like a ghost, leaving behind a fearsome stranger glowering in the flickering lantern light.

"You want to be one of them, Maria? Are you ready to service me the way they did? You want to know what kind of man I am?" In one smooth, predatory movement, he rose to his feet, towering over her. "On your knees, then, Fraulein. Open your mouth. You can't imagine how a man like me might use it. You can't begin to understand what a man like me is capable of."

Now Maria was on her feet as well, stumbling about the cave, pulling the dress over her head.

"I _hate_ you," she hissed.

"You have only yourself to blame, Fraulein. You haven't heard a thing I've been trying to tell you."

Shoes in her hand, she ducked down to exit the cave, but at the last moment, she turned back toward him, tears sliding down her face.

"You, Captain - you have _broken_ me."

Before he had the chance to cause her any greater pain, Maria turned and fled into the night.

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

 **Thank you for reading my story. Please enjoy the review holiday that comes with it, but know that I treasure the reviews many of you have left. I don't own TSOM or anything about it, it's all for love.**


	11. Chapter 11: Auf Wiedersehen

**CHAPTER 11: AUF WIEDERSEHEN**

Shoes in her hand, Maria ducked down to exit the cave, but at the last moment, she turned back toward him, tears sliding down her face.

" _You,_ Captain. You have _broken_ me."

Georg thought he might choke on the anger, shame and regret that rose in his throat. He had to wait for the swell of emotion to subside before he could manage to speak.

"Can't you see, Maria, that it's _me_ who is broken?"

But by then, she had vanished into the night.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

A tsunami, they had called it in Japanese, using the words "tidal wave" in German and Italian, although it had nothing to do with normal tides, being instead a uniquely destructive force of nature. He'd been in Sicily when it happened, perched safely on a mountaintop above the little town, as the sky darkened and a wall of water rose so high it seemed that the whole earth must be tilting on its axis. Georg watched, powerless, paralyzed by terror, as the cresting wave swept before it all signs of life: the old and the young, mothers and children, buildings and boats, animals and trees. The roaring current could not entirely obliterate the screams.

Incredibly, not an hour later, someone looking out to sea might think that the whole thing had never happened. The sun glowed yellow against a gorgeous blue sky, oblivious to the destruction below. On land, though, nothing was where it had been before. The landscape was unrecognizable, transformed forever.

The tragic sight lingered in his memory for years, along with the irrational feeling that he ought to have been able to prevent it, or stop it in its destructive tracks. As though if he wished hard enough for it, the world could return to how it had been, _before._

There was no question of sleep. Georg paced the tiny cave for hours, and every single step was haunted by unexpected and unwelcome memories of that terrifying afternoon in Sicily. He forced his thoughts back to Maria. When that didn't work, he summoned thoughts of Agathe. But it was no use. He could think of nothing but the tsunami.

When he stumbled from the cave at last, he was blinded by sunlight.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Georg found her by the woodpile, staring vacantly at the piece of kindling in her hand as though it had gotten there without her knowledge. At the sound of his footsteps, she looked up. Her face was pale beneath her freckles, but there was steel in her voice.

"Go away, Captain. Leave me alone."

"Maria-"

" _Fraulein_ Maria."

"Fraulein Maria. Listen, Maria. I mean, Fraulein. About last night. I-I apologize."

She regarded him stonily.

"I was an ass."

"At last, there is something we agree upon, Captain."

"But there's something I've got to-"

" _Shut up!"_

He was stunned into silence. The last time anyone had spoken to him in this fashion, he'd been in knee pants. _No one_ talked to Georg von Trapp that way! But he deserved it, didn't he?

"If you would only listen to me-"

"No, Captain, _you_ be quiet and listen to _me_. I'm leaving."

"What?"

"You're going to give me my money, and then you're going to have Leo take me back to Milan. Today, if possible. From there I will continue on to Vienna."

"But the children-"

"I'm sure you can figure out what to tell them. Presumably something other than the truth."

Her words landed on him like a well-deserved slap, and he struggled to maintain his composure. He'd have to play it for time, he could see, until she could calm down and listen. Even if he wasn't quite sure what it was he wanted to say. About the tsunami? And why he'd removed his wedding ring the night he'd married her?

"Now about the marriage, Fraulein-"

"It doesn't matter to me, what happens with that. I'm never going to marry _anyone_ , ever again. You can be quite certain of that."

"Of course you can leave, if that's what you want," he said evenly, pushing away a wave of panic, "but not today. And not without your saying a proper goodbye to the children this time. Look, Fraulein, this is no way to end things. Not after what you've meant to this family. To _me_. Please hear me out."

Her blue eyes burned with anger, but when he extended his hand to her, she shrank from him, and he could see the fear in the tilt of her chin.

"Don't – don't you dare come near me!"

Georg took a step backward, but the onslaught continued.

"Your contemptible behavior has ruined everything."

"I behaved badly, I know. But at least I didn't ruin _you_ , don't you see? I wanted you to - I left you untouched."

"Oh, for God's sake. I'm not talking about that. _Untouched?_ You have ruined my _life,_ with your irresponsible, hot and cold, cruel, humiliating heartlessness. The rest of the entire universe may think you're a hero, but I know better. Much better."

"But I only wanted to make you happy," he fumbled. "That's what I need to explain about. You see, I was thinking-"

It was like talking to a wall, an implacable, furious, lovely wall. Perhaps if he gave her a few more hours to calm down.

"Look, Maria. _Fraulein_ Maria," Georg corrected himself. He squinted up at the sky, where the sun peeked through the lacy canopy of naked branches. "It's nearly nine, and Leo might be waiting for me. We'll talk about this later." He had no intention of letting her go, but to mollify her, he added, "I'll tell him to plan on taking you to Milan tomorrow."

She didn't reply, only bent to gather a few more pieces of kindling. Sighing, Georg turned away and trudged into the forest.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Long after the Captain disappeared from sight, Maria's heart still raced with a strange mixture of fury, exhilaration, and disappointment. She could hardly bear to think about last night. Not only had he flown into a terrifying rage. Not only had he refused to make love to her, which was terribly confusing, since even in her innocence, she knew he'd been aroused. He hadn't even _kissed_ her!

Yet she also knew that even if she ran past Vienna to the ends of the earth, there would be no escaping her memories of what had happened inside the cave. The Captain had taken her to paradise, to a place of unimaginable joy. He could try to say that he'd left her untouched, but in reality, he had _branded_ her.

He was to blame for her predicament, and yet Maria also blamed herself for having been foolish enough to go to him. There was no denying that he was a war hero, and a decent man – anyone watching him with his children could tell that – but he was arrogant and self-centered, too, filled with self-pity, heedless of the devastation he left in his wake, prone to violent rages.

For some reason, Baroness Schrader suddenly came to mind, slinking elegantly through Maria's thoughts. For so long, the Baroness' memory had been synonymous with the worst feelings of humiliation and loss. But now, Maria felt a little needle of sympathy for the woman. And, she reminded herself, by this time tomorrow, she could be on her way to a new life in Vienna. It would be excruciating, to leave the children, but the sooner she was torn away from them, the sooner the healing could begin again.

When she returned to the cottage to find Brigitta and Marta squabbling, and the older girls loitering when they were supposed to be preparing for the midday meal, her head began to throb. She was dangerously close to losing her temper when they heard a commotion coming from outside the cottage.

"Friedrich! Kurt!" she heard the Captain shout. "Inside!"

"Father? What's wrong? Father!"

Maria heard his boots thunder across the porch before he burst into the cottage.

"Everyone. Gather only what you absolutely require and let's go."

Marta buried her head in Liesl's skirt, and Gretl's lip began to tremble.

"Captain! You're frightening them!"

He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.

"All right." He crouched down and ran a hand over Gretl's head. "Look, darlings, I've got a marvelous surprise for you. Something you're going to love, I promise. But we must leave this place immediately, or we'll be too late and we'll miss it."

He turned in Maria's direction, while managing to avoid her eyes.

"There's no time to take the long way out, so we'll have to take the shortcut. They'll need help."

"We can do it without help, Father," Friedrich chimed in.

The Captain nodded.

"Right. We leave in five minutes."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

And in a matter of minutes, they were, indeed, hiking upward toward the road, following the steep shortcut the Captain had shown her their first morning in the forest. He led the way, clambering over rocks and fallen trees with Gretl clinging to his back. Maria brought up the rear of their little procession, helping Marta over the rough parts and doing her best to keep an encouraging smile on her face for the other children, who chattered with great anticipation about the surprise their father had promised. When Liesl sent a questioning look her way, Maria could only shrug her ignorance.

At the top of the path, Leo and his cart waited for them in the road. Once they had piled into the cart and gotten underway, the children's excitement faded and they fell into silence, as though coming to terms with their hasty departure. Or perhaps they were stunned by the sudden glare of sunlight after so many weeks tucked away in the shadowy woods.

It was disconcerting to be traveling with no idea of their destination, but no amount of curiosity was enough to make Maria address the Captain directly, not after last night. Whatever apology he had been trying to fashion this morning would never suffice. It was just as well that, with their time in Italy seemingly drawing to an end, he would soon be out of her life for good. When she snuck a quick peek at him, he was staring out at the horizon, grim faced, wearing dark smudges of fatigue beneath his eyes.

Not a single cloud veiled the hot sun, and the sky overhead was a wide and perfect blue. On and on the cart creaked and jostled along back roads, for one hour and then a second. When the second hour gave way to the third, Leo produced a basket filled with apples, bread rolls and flasks of water.

It was Friedrich who first spied the distant glitter of open water, but within a minute, they were all on their feet, giddy with delight at the scene that opened up below them. The cart sat poised at the top of a high, chalk-white cliff, glowing in the midday light. Below, a stony slope dotted with red roofs and patches of grey-green foliage led to a wide promenade, lined with bright foliage. Beyond, stretching out to the horizon, lay the sunlit, azure sea.

The Captain ordered them back into their seats as Leo guided the horses through the precarious descent into the small town that had sprung up along the broad seaside promenade. Up close, the town had a distinctive atmosphere that was equal parts seedy and elegant. Buildings in various states of disrepair leaned up against each other, and beggars squatted at every curb. But the shop windows displayed elaborate furnishings and art, stylish clothing and sparkling jewels, and every block held at least two or three cafes whose sophisticated clientele spilled out onto the sidewalks.

"What kind of a place _is_ this?" Maria wondered aloud, before remembering that she wasn't speaking to the Captain. He startled, as though he'd forgotten she was there. His whole family leaned forward, waiting for an explanation, but before he could enlighten them, they had reached the very end of the town.

The cart had pulled into a curved driveway, lined on all sides by a sizable establishment. Freshly painted red shutters glowed against the salt-weathered wooden clapboards, and flowered vines tumbled from window boxes. An enormous sign reading HOTEL-ALBERGO hung over the door.

Maria busied herself helping the younger children into their father's arms, while Leo helped the older ones down. When she was the only one left in the cart, she pointedly ignored the Captain's extended hand and let Leo assist her instead. They were still shaking their stiff limbs into motion after the long, cramped journey, when a tall, distinguished-looking man appeared in the doorway. He was impeccably dressed in a gray suit that matched his silver hair.

The elegant gentleman made Maria suddenly aware of how shabby they looked. When she'd first met the von Trapp children, they'd been formally dressed in sailor suits, but now they wore tattered jumpers. Friedrich's trousers hung four inches above his ankles, Louisa's blouse gaped open between its buttons, and Brigitta's toes were sticking out of her shoes. The whole family looked so disreputable they appeared out of place in the seaside town. It was strange, she thought, how the same Captain who'd been outraged when his children paraded through Salzburg in clothing made from drapes, was completely at ease with their rustic appearance. In fact, in his open shirt, rough trousers and boots, he looked no different from them.

In the next moment, chaos erupted.

The younger children had spied the refined-looking gentleman in the doorway, and when they noisily launched themselves at him, he responded with such obvious affection that the reproof died on Maria's lips. The older ones crowded around him too, shrieking boisterously at the top of their lungs. But she couldn't make out a thing they were saying. It sounded like – was that _English_? Maria thought dimly.

Meanwhile, Captain von Trapp, wearing a broad smile on his face, was shaking Leo's good hand. The little man jumped back into his seat and clucked the horses into motion, without a backward glance or a farewell, but the Captain's eyes stayed on the cart until it disappeared around a curve in the road. Then he turned back toward Maria.

"Well, that's the last we'll see of Leo. He served us well, I think. And in case you're wondering, _that_ gentleman," the Captain tilted his head toward the ebullient mob, "is John Whitehead. Their grandfather. He arrived last night from England. As you know, the children are very devoted to their grandparents. She was English. My wife, I mean. I suppose you know that too."

They stood silently, watching John Whitehead disappear into the hotel, with every one of the von Trapp children clinging to him in some fashion – holding his hands, pressed up against his side, grasping his coat-tail, or in Gretl's case, riding in his arms.

Then the Captain turned back toward Maria.

"I'm sorry for all the secrecy, Fraulein. It was too risky to share my plan before we left Austria, and I did not want to get their hopes up until I was sure."

As he launched into an explanation, his gaze shifted from his feet to the hotel's front door to the sky, always carefully avoiding her own.

"This whole undertaking began just after you – ehrm - returned to the Abbey this summer. John traveled to Salzburg to warn me personally – a letter or a telephone wouldn't have been safe – he had seen intelligence coming from Germany, and he was in a position to know what might occur after the Anschluss. He convinced me to leave Austria, not that I needed much convincing. I knew by then that the Nazis would try to recruit me. As you may recall-"

There was an awkward pause while he shuffled his feet against the gravel driveway.

"I was supposed to marry. The plan was for a quick wedding, and then for the children to go on holiday to Italy with their stepmother. Leo promised to find a place for them to wait, and to keep everyone safe, just long enough to give me time to slip across the border myself. From there, I planned to take the family on to England. John has a great deal of influence there, and what with their mother having been English, the government gave him certain assurances that-"

He cleared his throat.

"Well. The wedding did not take place, as you know, and I thought I might have to make do with Liesl, until you conveniently landed in the middle of my plan instead." A ghost of a smile flitted across his face, but then his expression grew serious.

"The morning after I joined you in Italy, Leo brought word from John that certain difficulties had arisen. With England and Germany poised for war, it was more challenging than anticipated, to make the arrangements that would allow us to enter the country. As far as the English were concerned, it seemed that we had become enemy aliens. From that point forward, John sent news of one complication after another."

As the Captain spoke, little pieces of the puzzle fell into place for Maria. The Captain's interest in the younger children learning English. His dark moods and obvious frustration after his meetings with Leo. How the cottage had been so lightly provisioned, and the children not prepared for cooler weather. She couldn't quite imagine Baroness Schrader teaching the girls to bake bread and make soup, though.

"We could hardly return to Austria, so there was no choice but to stay put. Only this morning did Leo bring word from John that the required permissions were in hand, and that he had arrived here to escort us to England. But the situation there is fluid, so time is of the essence. In fact, there's a boat in the harbor that sails for England in an hour."

"An _hour?_ " Maria squeaked.

Everything was happening so fast! An hour? One hour left with the children? One hour left to - suddenly, Maria wished that she _had_ let Captain von Trapp apologize for last night's events. Not that she would ever forgive him, or herself, for what had happened in the cave, but now it would be just like the night of the party. Off he would go, with the children, and there would be no more chances for explanations, for understanding, for peace.

"An hour," she repeated. "Right, then." She managed a tight-lipped smile. "So it appears that our adventure is at an end. If there's nothing else you need from me, perhaps you can advise me on the best way to make my way back to Austria."

The Captain regarded her thoughtfully.

"You're anxious to get to Vienna, then."

Vienna. Hard to believe that it had been only yesterday they had discussed her plans to go there, she with a confidence she hadn't quite felt.

"Y-yes. Yes, I am, Captain."

"Very well, Fraulein. There is, however, something else before you go. The least that you could do-"

"Yes?"

Despite herself, Maria leaned forward. Too shy and too desperately afraid to say anything, she yearned for him to do so. Please, she thought, let him say _something._ Something that would release her from having to despise him for the rest of her life, something that would allow her to make sense of everything that had happened between them.

"-is to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?"

"Fraulein, you need to go inside and say goodbye to the children. The last time you left us – the children, that is – they were devastated. They've already lost their mother, and you – I know it is difficult, but you can't just keep running away from every sorrow you encounter."

Rage boiled Maria's blood, for this arrogant, belligerent and deeply troubled man to be lecturing _her_ in this manner. But then she remembered something else. There _was_ one thing he was good for. Very, very good for.

"I don't intend to go _anywhere_ , Captain, until you make good on your promise to pay me."

A flicker of amusement crossed his face.

"Of course, Fraulein. I'm a man of my word. Unfortunately, while I have plenty of French, Italian and English currency, that bribe I paid Zeller's man wiped out my supply of marks. I'll need to have the hotel arrange that with the bank."

The boat left in an hour, he had said.

"How long will that take?"

"Oh, _you_ won't be in any sort of rush," he said with a maddeningly superior grin, "because _you_ aren't going anywhere until tomorrow. They've got only one small rail station here, and one daily train to Milan. Goes out very early in the morning, I believe. I'll go to the desk and make all the arrangements for you, a room here overnight and the money and so on. Meanwhile, you can say a proper farewell to the children."

It was the hardest thing she'd ever done, but of course he was right, Maria knew. She followed the Captain into the hotel, and a dimly lit reception area, where the children's grandfather sat in a big leather armchair while all seven children perched in his lap, sat at his feet, or hung over his shoulders. As soon as he saw her, he rose, shaking off his admirers, and approached her with a warm smile and an outstretched hand.

"John Whitehead. And you are the famous Fraulein Maria," he said in perfect German, "it is a pleasure and an honor to meet you at last. I can't tell you how much my wife and I enjoyed hearing from the children all summer. Those letters you made them write!"

"It wasn't me, sir," she said, "they just needed someone to _encourage_ them."

More like take the trouble to give them stamps, she thought, something their father had never managed to do.

"No false modesty, now," Whitehead chuckled, "I know exactly what you did for my grandchildren."

"If I might have a moment with them, sir?" she asked.

He nodded understandingly and went to join the Captain at the reception desk. The two men immediately fell into an animated conversation, in which Captain von Trapp seemed to be doing most of the talking. John Whitehead listened carefully while occasionally glancing curiously in Maria's direction.

Undoubtedly, the Captain was explaining about their temporary marriage. Well, if there was less than an hour left, whatever the Captain had to say about her didn't matter now. She sat in the big chair, lifted Gretl and then Marta into her lap, and sent up a little prayer for help.

"Children," Maria began. "Do you remember the night of your father's party?"

"The night you ran away?" Louisa said cheekily.

"Y-yes. Exactly, Louisa."

"Why did you?" Brigitta asked.

"It doesn't matter. The reason no longer exists," Maria said. It seemed that she had evaded this question a hundred times or more since the evening of the party. "I had to leave, that was all there was to it, but I was wrong not to say goodbye. I was – I was a coward, when I ought to have been brave."

"Like Father?" Marta asked.

"Yes," Maria gritted her teeth at having to admit the Captain's superiority on this matter. "Your father _is_ very brave, but I, like most people, find it difficult to do certain things. The truth is, that when I ran away, I couldn't bear to say goodbye to you. But now – well, the time has come for us to part once again, and this time, I will do it properly, although it makes me very sad to do so. So sad that no amount of thinking of my favorite things can help. You see, I love you very much. Every single one of you."

"But why-" Kurt's voice caught and fell silent.

"I promised your father I would help you leave Austria, and watch over you until it was time to leave Italy. And now that time has come. I'm returning to Austria, and you – well, I can already see what a lovely man your grandfather is, and your grandparents will be so excited to have you with them, and England! What an adventure!"

But by now, Brigitta and Louisa were in tears, while the little girls in her lap stared at her uncomprehendingly.

"I will pray for you every night," Maria lumbered on, "and who knows, perhaps the time will come when we will see each other again."

"We'll leave it in God's hands, then," said a familiar deep voice, when she looked up, the Captain was there. Even with everything that had happened between them since yesterday, Maria was grateful for the sympathy written on his face.

"Children, it's time for us to go," he said gently. "Say goodbye to your Fraulein, and then Grandfather has a taxi outside, waiting to take us all to the harbor. Fraulein Maria, someone will be with you in a moment to show you to your room and explain the arrangements with the bank."

One last round of tearful hugs and kisses, and then Maria watched, numb with grief and disbelief, as the von Trapp children, with many sorrowful glances back in her direction, made their reluctant way out of the hotel and out of her life forever.

Their father, following behind them, did not look back.

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 **Thank you for reading my story and for the lovely and interesting reviews. Yes, the updates will come more slowly now that my vacation is over. While this one was more functional, there are 3-4 more chapters coming, each with lots of feels and/or steam and spice, and they are just going to take a while, at least two weeks apiece. I really appreciate your support.**

 **Speaking of appreciate, I forgot to acknowledge lemacd at the end of the last chapter for her contribution to my thinking about M &G's cave encounter. **

**There was a little Easter egg in here from my other fandom. Anyone?**

 **BTW I know I am doing a lot of violence to history and geography, but it can't be helped, and it's going to continue.**

 **I don't own TSOM or anything about it.**


	12. Chapter 12: Confidence

**CHAPTER 12: CONFIDENCE**

She heard the squeal of the taxi's tires against the pavement and its horn blare a warning to oncoming traffic as it pulled out into the road and toward the harbor. After that, all fell silent. The loudest sound in the lobby was the slow, insistent tick-tick-tick of a grandfather clock standing tall in the corner.

 _Tick-tick-tick._

Maria wanted to scream, but could not draw a breath. She wanted to cry hot tears, but an icy fist gripped her heart. She wanted to get to her feet and flee, to run away, anywhere, but a great weight held her down.

 _Tick-tick-tick._

All she seemed able to do was to sit, pinned in the big leather armchair, eyes squeezed shut as if she could blot out the final image of the von Trapp family parading, single-file, out of her life.

 _Tick-tick-tick._

Minutes passed, or perhaps an hour.

 _Tick-tick-tick._

"Drink this."

The scent of brandy wafted underneath her nose. Without thinking, she opened her mouth to swallow, and only when the burning liquid slid down her throat did she let herself accept that the voice was real.

"Captain?"

"Another sip," he commanded. "You look like hell."

She pushed the glass away and struggled to her feet.

"I thought you were gone!"

"You thought I left, just like that? After that lecture I delivered on proper goodbyes? And in any event, I believe there is some unfinished business between us."

He must be talking about the money, Maria thought vaguely. But hadn't he arranged that already, along with a room for her? And wasn't the ship about to leave?

"I don't understand. What are you doing here?"

He looked away from her, shrugging.

"I am here because, despite his heroic efforts, John's arrangements sprung a leak. It turns out that His Majesty's government was willing to take in a late subject's children, but they drew the line at me. I was her husband, yes, but I also happen to have fought against the British Empire in the last war, even if my side went down in defeat. They'll probably let me into the country eventually, but it's going to take a bit more wrangling on John's part. Meanwhile, he and I were in complete agreement that it was prudent for the children to go on without me."

"Oh, no! The poor dears!" The worry and fear welled up in her instantly. "How did they take it? To be separated from you _again_?"

"They'll manage. I explained it all to them. It won't be long, hopefully, and you saw how they are with their grandfather. And at least now they know that I – ehrm - care for them. Not like before. Thanks to you."

Maria strained to summon a brave smile. But suddenly, it was all too much for her – last night in the cave, with its dazzling heights and crushing disappointment, the hasty departure from the forest, the final, heartbreaking parting from the children, and the mental picture of their faces as they set sail for England and left their father behind on the dock.

"Are you all right, Fraulein?"

When his eyes found hers, the warmth and concern she found there unnerved her even more than last night's icy anger or humiliating rejection had. The Captain took a cautious step toward her, she saw his arms open, and then – with a mixture of relief and mortification – she fell into his embrace and collapsed against him.

The little governess cried inconsolably for a good ten minutes, standing in the middle of the busy reception area, while Georg glared at any of the hotel staff who dared to come near. It seemed impossible to calm her, so he only murmured comfortingly and allowed himself to ghost his hands against her bright, rumpled hair. They had been in the forest for so long, he realized, that it might be possible to braid it, purely for the pleasure of unbraiding it again.

He let these pleasant thoughts distract him until after a while, she took a few last shuddering breaths and quieted. Georg was wise enough to anticipate the backlash that was sure to follow, when she would seek to reclaim her pride. Soon enough, Fraulein Maria could be expected to recover her composure, remember that she despised him, and push him away. All he could do was prepare to offer her a handkerchief and wait.

"Thank you, Captain." She blew her nose, noisily. "I apologize for my – ehrm – _outburst_. It's only that I'm very fond of the children, as you know, and I'm afraid my concern for them expressed itself _most_ inappropriately. I appreciate your kindness and concern for me, but it doesn't mean that anything has changed, or that I could possibly forgive-"

Maria rattled on, talking as fast as she could. Not an hour ago, she had lamented that there would be no opportunity for a final confrontation, but now that the Captain had returned, she shrank from it.

"Now if you will only inform me as to the location of my room and the arrangements for my money, I will-"

"Not so fast, Fraulein Maria."

Having cut her off, the Captain fell silent, studying her carefully. Maria could practically _see_ him strategizing. What could he be planning, exactly? Surely he wasn't the sort to go back on his promise of payment. After last night, it was clear that he had no more interest in her _that_ way – she felt her cheeks turn pink at the thought – and she felt the same, of course. But there was something about the resolved set of his shoulders and the grim determination on his face that filled her with dread.

"Much as you're in a hurry to get to Vienna and begin your new life, there is nowhere else for either one of us to go until the morning, when the trains go out. I have some errands to do in the town, and then it would please me if you would dine with me tonight."

"No, thank you, Captain. I'll find something in the hotel."

"There is no restaurant here, only meals served in the rooms for those who can pay for them."

"Then in town."

"Oh, no, you won't," he said grimly. "Did you see the sort of town this is? You wouldn't last a moment out there, and I forbid you to even try." Before she could object, or offer an alternative, he cut her off again. "I'll see you in my rooms at seven, Fraulein. Good afternoon."

A red-headed housemaid showed Maria to her room, which sat tucked under the eaves, up three flights of stairs. While tiny, it was impeccably clean, with a big window that offered a magical view of the sea. Even accustomed as she was to the majesty of God's natural creations, Maria couldn't get over the magnificent sight spread out before her, and she spent the rest of the afternoon transfixed by the tumbling, glittering waves, the sunlit blues and greens, and the mystery of what lay over the horizon.

The sight of the sea, of course, led her thoughts straight back to Captain von Trapp. Last night's experience in the cave, its shameful delights and terrifying conclusion, were still fresh in her mind, as was his kindness earlier in the afternoon. Oh, why did everything about him have to be so _complicated?_ Did she even want an explanation for his bewildering behavior last night? Was she ready for what she might hear? What difference could any explanation make now? Or would it be better to put it behind her for this one final evening together? She had gotten in over her head with him and if she were smart, she would –

She would what?

The sun still lingered over the horizon, but the sea had grown flat under the fading light when she prepared for her dinner with the Captain. Although there was little preparing to be done, Maria thought despairingly, not when she could barely force a comb through her unruly locks, and when the only dress she owned was the ridiculous pale-blue, high-waisted dress she'd worn when she'd left the Abbey, much the worse for wear after many weeks in the forest. Once she had her money, her days of hand-me-downs and hand-mades would be behind her, and she could buy some new clothing from the shops. Of course, he would be long gone by then, and why did she care what she looked like for him anyway?

The Captain's suite was on the ground floor at the back of the hotel. Maria trudged down all three flights of stairs and followed a long winding corridor that led away from the lobby. When she knocked on the door, it flew open immediately.

It was like a magic trick: the man who greeted her and motioned her into the spacious parlor had been turned back into the Captain she'd known in Salzburg. Gone were the rough shirt, worn trousers and boots he had worn in the forest. Instead, he was dressed in a formal suit-jacket and tailored trousers, gleaming white shirt and tie, and low polished shoes. He was clean-shaven, with his hair neatly combed.

"What have you done to yourself?" she exclaimed, feeling as out of her depth and out of place as she had the moment they had met in his ballroom. She reminded herself of their recent history: the shared confidences, the kisses, the shocking intimacies – but it was really the sheepish look on his face that put her at ease.

"I went into the town and did some shopping."

"You bought yourself clothes?"

"Not _only_ clothes," he said defensively. "Presents for the children," he nodded at a neat pile of wrapped gifts on a nearby desk, "and a good French brandy, and some books. And some other things. Were you hoping I bought something for you as well?" he teased her in a strangely half-hearted fashion.

"Of course not," she flushed. "Although now that you mention it, about my money, Captain-"

"Were you this mercenary at the Abbey?" he frowned. "Why don't you come see what there is for supper first?"

He motioned toward a low table which held a bewildering variety of covered dishes.

There were soup, bread, two meats, potatoes, vegetables, fish, two cold salads and a three-tiered platter of little cakes. There was so much food that the breadbasket and the soup tureen had to sit on the floor, along with two bottles of wine and one she thought might be his brandy.

Maria let out a little noise of astonishment.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like," he mumbled, reaching for the first bottle of wine and filling two glasses near to overflowing.

After they seated themselves, she on the couch and he in an armchair, and spread snowy napkins over their laps, things went smoothly enough for a while. The food was excellent. Maria realized that she hadn't eaten a proper meal since before Gretl had tumbled into the creek – had it only been yesterday? The food and wine kept them occupied for a while, but soon enough, without the children to distract and entertain them, and with the weight of the encounter in the cave between them, they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

"So!" she said at last. "What books did you buy, Captain?"

"Hm? Oh. Well, there's an excellent bookstore here. They stock items in a half-dozen different languages. I bought several volumes of poetry."

"Poetry. Of course," she muttered, remembering his nightly recitations to the children in the forest. "Although why you need poems printed in books, when you're carrying so much of it around in your head, is beyond me."

"Perhaps I get tired of hearing it in my own voice, Fraulein. Perhaps I wish someone would read to _me_ on occasion instead."

The curious suggestion hung in the air while Maria pondered and decided she'd best ignore it.

"Well, then," Maria began again. "Tell me about Vienna."

"Vienna?" he said blandly. "Ah, right. Vienna. Well. There is the opera, of course, and the theatre, and concerts. The museums. The café life is very gay, of course, and then there are the shops if you like that kind of thing." He paused. "Do you really _like_ that kind of thing?"

"Shops? I don't really know. I think I _will_ like the music, though. Are there parks?"

"Parks? Well, yes, I suppose there are. The palace gardens, if nothing else."

"For someone who spent so much time there, Captain, you don't sound very enthusiastic about Vienna."

"I wasn't," he grimaced. "But that's all in the past. Look, Fraulein," he said abruptly, "I didn't ask you to dine with me so I could advise you about Vienna. I'm sure you'd be quite capable of figuring all of that out without any assistance from me. I asked you here to-"

"To settle our accounts, I hope."

Captain von Trapp was an honorable man, but he was in a strange mood, and she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that his promises to pay her would somehow go awry. She'd never cared a thing about money, probably because she hadn't had any, but how was she to get to Vienna and survive until she could find a job?

Maria watched as he splashed a healthy measure of brandy into a snifter and tilted it toward her in invitation. When she shook her head no – she'd already had two glasses of wine and needed her wits about her - he shrugged and drained the snifter in one long draught.

"To settle our accounts? Yes, Fraulein, in a manner of speaking, yes. That is _exactly_ what we need to do. But that means I would need you to-"

After that, no further explanation was forthcoming.

"What is it you want from me, Captain?"

"What _do_ I want?"

He tugged at his ear.

"What I _want_ , I have no right to. Not after last night. You see, Maria – that is, Fraulein Maria - I've been thinking and wondering-"

"Yes?"

"I want you to stay," he blurted, and then immediately caught himself. "I _ask_ you to stay."

"Stay?"

"With me. Tonight."

She looked around the comfortably furnished parlor, with its wall of windows that overlooked a narrow stretch of beach and, beyond, the sea.

"Here?"

"No, in there." He nodded toward double wooden doors that stood half-open at the end of the room. "In the bedroom."

Maria's stomach dropped through the floor, and her mouth went so dry she could barely choke out the single syllable.

" _What?"_

"I want you to lie with me. Tonight."

"No," she croaked. "Never again. _No._ After last night, how could you even-"

"No, not like last night," he agreed. "I promise you that. I want us to," he cleared his throat, "to be together."

She could hardly believe what she was hearing.

"You can't be serious."

"Oh, but I am."

His voice was deep and rich, like velvet.

"It must be the brandy talking."

"Undoubtedly the wine, and the brandy, give me the courage to ask it of you, but I know what I want."

"B-but the marriage!" she stammered.

"I believe it was you who pointed out to me that it hardly matters, since neither of us wishes to marry again."

"And you said-" It wasn't hard to remember, not with every humiliating word etched into her memory, "You said that it would only make things more difficult."

"That is a risk," he said gravely. "One I'm inclined to take if you are."

"Can I-"

"Can you what, Maria?"

She licked her lips.

"Can I have some of that brandy after all?"

He poured her a drink and sat back in his chair as though prepared to wait patiently for her answer, fixing her with the same melting look the first night he'd sung the edelweiss song to his family. It took one sip, another and then a third, before Maria could tear her eyes away from his. She went to stand by the window, staring out at the gathering dusk, listening to the waves lap at the narrow beach, waiting for the brandy to slow her racing mind and heart.

She was going to say yes. She already knew it, even with the lingering memories of last night's debacle, even though it was hard to admit it to herself. What had happened to her? While he had magically turned back into Salzburg Captain von Trapp, it seemed that Salzburg Maria, _Nonnberg_ Maria, was gone for good.

She was going to say yes, even though her first time might be much worse for being her last. It was madness, what he was suggesting; she knew she'd be hurt, but what would hurt more: her heart when – not if, but when - he broke it, or a lifetime of regret for turning him away? There would never be anyone else for her, she knew that instinctively; she wanted _this_ man to be her first, and if she couldn't have him, she'd die a virgin, never knowing what it was to lie with a man.

She was going to say yes, because it was impossible to resist him, not after last night. There was nothing else to consider but the chance to know the feel of his skin, to have his mouth on her again, _everywhere_. It had been unnerving, and maybe even a little frightening, the power of what had been unleashed in the cave: words like rapture, thrill, or ecstasy held new meaning for her now. A feverish wave washed over her at the unimaginable thought of what would happen if she followed him into the bedroom.

Although her back was turned to him, with the weight of his eyes on her, she felt as naked as he had been under the waterfall.

The air around them nearly crackled with intensity. Georg watched her struggle with herself, feeling a certain amount of sympathy for her valiant and foolish effort to resist the inevitable. He knew now, even if she didn't, that they'd been headed straight for this moment, ever since – since when? Since the beginning, it seemed. His present need for her was so urgent, it seemed nearly impossible that he hadn't already had her.

From the start, the little governess had been exasperating, infuriating, even irritating at times. Tonight, her rough dress and unkempt appearance concealed what he knew to be her considerable charms. But all Georg could think of at the moment was the ebb and flow of her confidence. During the golden days of their summer in Salzburg, Fraulein Maria had rushed about, singing at the top of her lungs, as though she couldn't wait to get where she was going next, even when she didn't know where that was. He and his children had followed behind, enchanted.

The Maria he'd taken from the Abbey and married had been a very different girl, one who'd moved cautiously, uncertain and wary of whatever awaited her. The escape to Italy and the long weeks in the forest had revived her spirit: she'd kept his family safe and whole, proved her mettle, and even learned a little bit about how to flirt along the way. She might nearly be his equal when it came to audacious bluster, in fact: why, the dressing-down she'd given him this morning outshone even the one she'd given him the day she'd swamped the rowboat and dumped his children in the lake.

Still, watching her debating his proposition, it was clear that that in a few brief, brutal moments in that cave, he'd taken something from her. Now it was his responsibility to restore it. But how? Georg could not even begin to fathom what it was he needed from this young woman. How could he explain it to her? He would have to, eventually.

She turned away from the window to face him.

"Can I have another drink?"

"No," he shook his head, "any more, and it will be the brandy deciding, instead of you."

She nodded, accepting. Her face formed another question.

"It's just-"

"It's just what, Maria?"

"If we – it would just be this one time."

A statement, then, not a question. He would leave it at that for now.

"It's your decision," Georg said quietly. "You would be doing me a very great honor. I know it's overwhelming to consider after last night, but even after everything that's happened, I think you know you can trust me to look after you, Maria."

"It's not that," she said. "I was only thinking-"

"Are you afraid that there might be a child?"

Her blue eyes went wide.

"No! I hadn't even-"

Georg cursed himself for having introduced this complication, and hastened to add, "You don't need to worry about that. I know how to prevent it."

She nodded again, and then after a moment, she muttered, so low he wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly, "it's all right."

"All right? You mean you'll-"

"I said all right! I'll do it! On one condition."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'll do it. Go to bed with you, I mean. On one condition."

The rising tide of relief and anticipation flooding his veins quickly receded, while his mind swirled with the alarming possibilities. Maria was too innocent to make a demand that offered any erotic prospects.

"What condition might that be?"

"My condition is that you tell me about them."

"Who?"

"Those women."

"For God's sake, Maria," he groaned, but she cut him off.

"I want to know how you could go with them when you were so – you loved your wife. Just look at you! You are still broken by her loss. But somehow you just – and now you want to with me, and I want to-"

"It's different with you. I told you that," Georg said.

Dread bloomed in the pit of his stomach, knowing that the moment of truth was approaching, that shortly, he would find himself trying to explain things to her, things he didn't understand himself. 'I took off my wedding ring, you see, because-' 'I keep dreaming of a tidal wave-'

But this was the price of having her in his arms again, a privilege he'd give his fortune for. He took a deep, steadying breath.

"All right, then. Why don't we sit down, and have another drink, and I'll try to tell you all about it, if that's what you require. I'll try, all right?"

"No. Later."

"What?"

"Later. You can explain it to me later. I think we'd better – ehrm – get it over with first. The other, I mean," she said, casting her eyes toward the bedroom door.

"Get it over with?"

Despite the absurd circumstances, a laugh bubbled from his lips. The last time Georg had heard that phrase, it had been from one of his grandmother's housemaids, and he'd been – what, fifteen or sixteen? 'Sure, why not? I've got a few minutes before teatime, love. Come on, let's get it over with,' she'd said.

"Before I lose my nerve," Maria summoned him from his memories. "Because I'm still not sure this is a good idea."

"Neither am I," he said grimly, taking her by the hand and towing her into the bedroom. "Neither am I, but we're going to do it anyway. Because after last night, we both know that you want me as much as I want you." Although Georg didn't see how that could possibly be true, since at this moment, he wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything.

The bedroom was unlit, draped in violet shadows. A wave of primitive possessiveness swept over him: he had her where he wanted her now, just a few meters from a wide, comfortable bed. She was his to do with as he pleased. He knew he should step back, test her willingness by letting her take the lead. But her blue eyes pleaded with him as clearly as if the words had come from her sweet lips. What to do about her, this problem called Maria? She needed confidence, but he saw now that she drew her confidence from him.

"Can you," his voice came out more roughly than he'd intended, "can you undress for me?"

She opened her mouth, but when nothing came out, she shook her head from side to side.

"For me, Maria. I can't do it for you this time. I know you don't want to, but you've got to. You need to do it for me. Please."

Please was a magic word, she was always telling his children, and it worked: her fingers skidded to the hem of her dress and lifted it over her head.

"That's right," he praised her. "Now the rest of it. Come on."

She fumbled and tripped her way out of patched undergarments so ugly they made him wince. Perhaps he ought to – but he was struck motionless, and speechless as well.

Maria stood quietly before him, a luminous beauty: an awkward angel, all pale limbs, unruly golden hair and a bashful smile, glowing in the twilight's gloom. He let himself stare at her, watching with an odd kind of pride as she battled and overcame the urge to cover herself with her hands – last night's first lesson, learned well. The room was so silent that, through a barely-cracked window, the sea could be heard rushing up onto the beach.

When he came up close to her, and traced the line of her throat with his finger, he felt her shiver. With desire? Or with dread?

"Up on the bed, Maria darling."

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

 **I know, I know, I know! What a cruel place to end an update! But don't worry, the next part is already nearly complete, it was just getting too long! The good thing is that all of these chapters seem to be longer than I planned so perhaps we have more than three chapters left after all.**

 **Although you are all on a review holiday, I do thank those who review, especially since without you, I probably would have failed to notice that in the last chapter, Georg left without saying goodbye after criticizing Maria for doing the same.**

 **Anyway, I don't own anything about TSOM.**


	13. INTERMEZZO: AN EXTENDED AN

**AN EXTENDED A/N: SOME THOUGHTS ABOUT OUR HERO AND HEROINE.**

 **Don't worry. I've also just posted the next chapter, which you can go read right away if you can't wait. But I was inspired by some reviewers (not bothered, just inspired, I love dishing about my stories) to address some concerns and questions that have arisen about Georg's and Maria's behavior in this story. You can skip this note, you can read it later, or you can read it now.**

 **This is my 32nd TSOM fic, not counting four unpublished pieces, and I've learned that at some point, you develop a core sense of the two main characters that can't and won't change very much. (or maybe they would with a better writer!)**

 **My Georg is a Dark Captain, not a hearts and flowers guy. As my pal lemacd puts it, he's not a Disney prince. Think about that blazingly intense gazebo moment in the film. "Oh, my love," he murmurs. A world of feels in three words and it wouldn't be half as effective if he then ran around singing, oh, I don't know, a whole song called "Maria." (Wait, nvm, that was _West Side Story_ ). He's experienced great loss and trauma and has developed certain ways to deal with it. We will learn more about Georg in the remaining chapters (why is it that no matter how many chapters I write, there are always three more chapters? It's like some kind of Greek myth). But, like Maria in the film, I can't make him something he's not. He'll always be arrogant, stubborn and most comfortable with the kind of feelings that stay below the waist.**

 **And my Maria, yes, she's spunky and independent minded, but come on. She's half his age, completely unworldly, bombarded by all kinds of emotions and sensations she's been raised not to feel. Just listen to her in 'Confidence.' The person singing that song is anything but confident; there's a frantic edge to it and the lyrics make no sense. In her own way, Maria is as confused and fearful as her Captain, although she reacts differently. The film opens with her running away; the first act closes with her running away, and come to think of it, she's running away at the end, too, but that's different.**

 **So, yes, my Georg cannot even begin to understand what he thinks about Maria, but his default option is, well, you know, lust. And while Maria can push back at him in some respects, when she's up against that kind of crazy, she can't work miracles.**

 **They will need** _ **me**_ **for that!**

 **Now go read the next chapter.**


	14. The Night Before the Morning After

**CHAPTER 13: THE NIGHT BEFORE AND THE MORNING AFTER**

"Up on the bed, Maria, darling."

She found it easier to simply obey him, than to have to think about was going to happen next. Maria scrambled onto the bed and watched as he disappeared into the bathroom. The wait seemed interminable, and with every second, her resolve gave way to misgivings. When she felt herself begin to tremble, she realized it wasn't only because she was apprehensive about lying with him, but also that she had not entirely put last night's ordeal behind her. The roar of her heartbeat drowned out the sound of the sea from beyond the window.

The Captain emerged, wearing only a dressing gown and a reassuring smile which vanished the moment he looked at her.

"Maria? Please. Don't be frightened of me. I couldn't bear it."

His voice was kind, which somehow only served to infuriate her.

"How," she took a deep breath, "how can you say that to me, Captain? After last night?"

He shook his head. "Maria – and since I'm using your given name, perhaps you could try to use mine? - Maria, what happened in the cave is not going to happen again. You'll see."

Perhaps she _should_ have forced him to explain himself first before agreeing to this. Because despite herself, despite wanting him desperately, Maria suddenly could not get past the hurt and anger. The words spilled from her mouth before she even knew what she wanted to say.

"You behaved as though you were giving me a music lesson!"

"Now, hold on-"

"You didn't even _kiss_ me!"

"That can't be right. I'm quite certain that I did."

"Well, you didn't," Maria countered, and then before she could stop herself, she added, "not on the mouth, anyway."

There was a long moment of shocked silence.

Would she ever learn not to say everything she was thinking? Drowning in embarrassment, Maria turned over, burrowing her flaming-red face in a pillow and pressing her body into the mattress, wishing she could make herself disappear entirely. At least the heavy bedding muffled the roar of his laughter.

"Oh, God. I'm sorry, Maria. Please turn over and look at me. I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing _with_ you! Because that was funny, darling, _very_ funny! How is it that you are still a virgin and already so good at making naughty jokes?" He bent over, putting his lips as close to her ear as he could manage. "Naughty, yet _tasteful_ , if you understand my meaning."

She was beyond embarrassment now, and heading straight for humiliation. Yet at the same time, that silky voice perfectly evoked the remembered shape of his wicked mouth, the scrape of his tongue in a place she'd never even touched herself.

"Come on out of that pillow, Maria, please. So I owe you a kiss? It's a debt I'll gladly pay. You can't still be _too_ angry at me for last night, or you wouldn't be here in my bed," he said, brushing his fingers tentatively across her bare shoulders. "Naked. And splendid, at least from what I can see. Turn over, now, and show me your sweet breasts. I was so mad to taste you last night that I didn't pay them half enough attention. Please, _please_ don't be angry at me, not after we've come this far."

She _did_ like that he could speak aloud of things she was ashamed to even _think_ about, things like being naked and her breasts and how he had tasted her most secret places. She liked the way her name sounded on his lips, no longer like the problem it had once been, but like a caress. She liked hearing him plead with her, too.

"It's not," she muttered, lifting her face out of the pillow for a split second, "it's-".

"Perhaps you're just feeling a bit timid. It's perfectly understandable."

Standing by the side of the bed, Georg leaned over, gathered her curls in his hand, and tugged gently. He was a bit startled when she arched her neck against his palm.

"Come on out of that pillow, Maria. I won't bite. Not until you ask me to, anyway."

He felt a tremor under his hand, one that felt suspiciously like a giggle. When he cupped her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze, there was no objection, so he climbed over her where she lay, and swept his thumbs down either side of the tense ridge of her spine, a line pulled taut, and then back up again.

Her skin was impossibly soft. Once she relaxed under his hands, he took his time with her, kissing her from her neck and down the supple curve of her back and lower, lingering along the way to caress the jut of her shoulder blades, the back of her sturdy knees and her slender ankles, gently kneading her round bottom.

"Oh. _Oh,"_ she whimpered. "That's- oh, please, please, can't you -"

By now, she was squirming restlessly, pushing the lower half of her body into the bed in a promising gesture of carnal instinct. If he hadn't known better, he'd have thought she was inviting him to take her just like this – but no. Not this way.

By now, his desire was like a wild bucking thing, clawing and howling, trapped and thrashing for release, but he clung to his resolve like a drowning man. He wasn't quite ready to let her turn over, telling himself that the slow buildup was for her benefit. It was her first time after, all, and he wanted it to be good for her. She deserved it, after everything he'd put her through. And even if Maria was eager for what came next, he was uneasy. No matter what the little governess thought she wanted, how could she possibly understand what it would be like when he pushed his crude body into her immaculate virtue?

Unfortunately, with that thought of pushing anything anywhere, the last of his self-control evaporated, and he gave into her pleas.

He turned Maria on her back and bent over her, frantically mouthing her lovely breasts until her ragged moans filled the room. In a haze of lust, he shouldered her knees apart and went at her center, licking her open for him, lapping at her sensitive skin like a starving man.

Georg felt her hands tug at his hair and her nails dig into his neck until he was certain she had drawn blood. It seemed that his angel, so biddable just minutes ago, had been transformed into a little witch: fearless, passionate and unbelievably responsive. It was only a matter of moments before she detonated, thrashing wildly against his mouth as she cried out in ecstasy.

It had been different this time, Maria knew, even before she could draw a breath, even while she still trembled from the onslaught of pleasure that had come in blissful waves. Last night when it had happened to her, he had been benevolent: kindly if removed, taking the time to coax her gently back to earth, murmuring gentle reassurances, but seemingly unaffected even as she fell apart.

This time, although he was silent, it was a silence that crackled with passionate intent. He pressed his mouth to her belly, once. Then he stood, shrugged off his dressing gown and turned to face her, revealing the elegant, naked, aroused Captain she'd last seen under the waterfall. Her skin prickled with desire at the magnificent sight.

He crawled over her, blue eyes gleaming in his flushed face, looking ready to devour her.

"I don't," she swallowed, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do, Cap – ehrm-"

"You don't have to worry about anything. Except remembering to use my name, that is. Leave the rest of it to me."

Maria wasn't sure how she felt about it, that confusing mix of resentment and relief she experienced when he ordered her about in this fashion. For now, at least, she would gladly put herself in his hands. Or the opposite, in this case:

"Take me," he growled, pushing himself, hot and _horrifyingly_ huge, into her hands. Maria was eager to please him, but she thought that if she saw any more of him – _it_ – she would lose her nerve, so she squeezed her eyes closed and wrapped her fingers tentatively around his length. His hands over hers, he showed her the motion, how to use both hands, where to put her fingers.

His breath came in harsh groans. "Harder. Please," he added, but there was no mistaking the command. " _Harder."_

Curiosity overcame fear, and she was just beginning to consider taking a look at things when she felt him push her hand away and drop down over her, anchoring her with a measure of his weight, until the heat of his lithe, muscled body surrounded her. She felt his knee push her legs open and the hard part of his body bump against her center.

"Eyes open," he admonished her. "I'll try and be gentle."

"Why start now," she smiled weakly, instantly regretting the mild joke when she felt it: a sting and then a sharp tear, followed by the astonishing sensation of being stretched open and filled.

Through the fog of shock and pain, she kept herself focused on those treacherous blue eyes. She heard him choke out her name, a sound between a moan and a whimper, an oddly reassuring sound that gave Maria confidence and spurred her on. Although she was very nearly overwhelmed, she tried to take as much of him as possible, attempting to think of each moment as the memory it would soon become. Because if tonight was going to be their only time together, she wanted to remember all of it. She ran her hands across his sweat-dampened back and lifted up against him, again and again, pressing closer as though to imprint the feel and touch and sound of him buried inside her. As though she could memorize the rasp of his hair-roughened skin, as though if she held onto him tightly enough, she could make tomorrow vanish.

Now he had worked himself inside her, filling her inch by inch until he reached a place so far inside her that she felt him _everywhere_. When he began to rock against her, she felt desire blossom every place his body slid against hers, the pleasure warm and heavy, deep in her belly and between her legs, heat licking through her veins. She felt him pulse inside her, she was on the verge of something -

Suddenly, his low groans gave way to a roar, the cry of an animal, wild and untamed. There was a flurry of motion as he pulled his body out of hers and sealed himself against her belly, giving her his full weight for a few uncomfortable moments before he rolled away, leaving her skin strangely damp and sticky.

The room filled with a peaceful silence, broken only by the sound of waves lapping at the beach.

If it had been Maria's first time, it had been a novel experience for Georg as well. For one thing, rather than falling into the usual post-coital stupor, he had never felt more alive, so full of energy he could barely be still. Which was just as well, since she probably required more looking after than he was accustomed to providing. His knees were still weak when he brushed a kiss onto her forehead and rose unsteadily from the bed.

When he returned, hands full of basin, sponge and towels, she was sprawled on the bed, drowsy and limp, eyes half-closed, her golden hair strewn wildly against the pillows. If he was feeling energetic, Maria was the picture of near-repose. In Georg's experience, women almost always wanted to _talk_ afterward; perhaps this was an unprecedented and welcome reprieve.

"Let's get you cleaned up, love."

Her blue eyes sprang open and a look of alarm crossed her face.

"You don't have to do that."

"I don't do anything I don't want to do. You should know that by now," he said, and went to work while she watched.

He caught her staring, fascinated, as he wiped away the sticky patch on her belly. This was one of the things he found most enchanting about Maria, the mix of innocence and worldliness that kept a man guessing. Would a girl from her background realize what he had done? Woman, he corrected himself. He'd never be able to think of her as a girl again. She was, he reminded himself grimly, his _wife_ as well.

Not that it mattered what she understood. She was his for good now, not only because the marriage could no longer be undone, but because he simply could not allow her to lie with another man. _Why_ , was something he would think about later, along with what to do about it.

"I have a question," she whispered.

Apparently there was to be no reprieve after all.

"I'm sure you do," he said, steeling himself for any number of questions he'd rather not answer. He'd been so hungry for her, he'd have promised her rubies, a yacht, castles, anything. And anything would have been preferable to nosy questions about his past.

"Did you – did you like it?"

"Oh! Did I _like_ it? Of course I did, Maria. Very much. You were _spectacular._ This was something I wanted for a very long time, and it was even better than I dreamed. You did me a very great honor, letting me be your first, and I do thank you for that."

"Oh, the pleasure was all mine," she blushed.

"It wasn't, though, was it?" he said slyly. "Not the second time, anyway."

"But I _did_ like it, Cap – erhm, Georg. I did. I mean, I liked the second part quite a lot, even though it was different from when you - ehrm- but-" he watched the red tide of color wash over her cheeks as she struggled to explain something she probably didn't even have the words for.

He squeezed the sponge out into the basin.

"That's to be expected. It gets better over time, though."

She tilted her head.

"Then I have another question. Do you-"

Please, Maria, he thought to himself, please don't ask me that.

"Do you want to do it again?"

Georg laughed, as much amused as relieved.

"What happened to my demure little Fraulein?"

"I left her at the waterfall," she yawned widely.

Gently, now, between her legs. He was relieved to see she hadn't bled much.

"If you mean right this moment, no. You'd need a younger man for that, I'm afraid. And you'll be sore for a day or two. "

"How many times have you done this?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Been with a virgin, I mean."

He looked down at the towel in his lap, focused on folding and unfolding it.

"Only two."

"Counting me?"

"Yes," he said tightly, "counting you."

Georg did not like it one bit, the smug smile that flitted across her face, even though it was gone in a moment.

"Do you think you could-"

"No more questions, darling. We can talk in the morning. Right now you ought to rest."

"But I'm cold," she complained. "I only wanted to ask you to close the window."

"Let's try another way to warm you," he suggested, putting aside his supplies, stretching out on the bed and turning her to spoon against his body. "Now rest," he ordered. For once, she obeyed: she nestled against him, gave a satisfied sigh, and was asleep in moments.

It had been a momentous day. Georg was too exhausted to even feel relieved at having successfully liberated his family from their temporary haven in favor of a more secure one, or to worry about having sent them far away, overseas, without him.

But for the second night in a row, there was no question of sleep. Not while the memory of the encounter in the cave hung over the day like a dark cloud.

Had it really been only twenty-four hours since Maria had come to him in the cave, trusting him with her innocence, willing to give him everything, despite knowing he could give her nothing in return? He had been a fool to think he could avoid taking her virginity, though he didn't blame himself for having done the honorable thing by trying. But he didn't think he'd ever forgive himself for threatening her, for treating her so shamefully.

Even while preoccupied by sending his children away, he had spent the day doing everything he could think of to make it up to her, with apologies and compliments and gifts, with embraces and caresses. With apparent success, he'd successfully navigated the tricky balance between giving Maria the direction he thought she needed while respecting her independent spirit and restoring her self-confidence. And he had given her the one thing he knew how to offer: terrifyingly, stupendously, screamingly good sex. She was inexperienced, but wildly responsive; undoubtedly she'd be thrilled at how much more there was to discover about her body. And his.

For now, though, the way she curled against him, sleeping peacefully, told him that he'd successfully soothed her fears.

Now he had to reckon with his own.

Georg slid from the bed and wandered restlessly around the room. Years of living in small spaces had made him compulsively tidy; without thinking, he put towel, sponge and basin back in the bathroom, hung up his dressing gown, arranged her scattered clothing neatly on a chair.

What he needed now was air and the sound of the sea. He went to the window, throwing it wide-open, filling his lungs with deep breaths of sea air and pondering the sky, where a sliver of moon hung amidst a sprinkle of stars. He had always done his best thinking this way, with the sea and the sky to advise him.

His thoughts went to his children, who were moving farther away from him by the minute, though he took comfort in knowing that they slept under the same sky above. Now that he was cut adrift from family and country, the young woman sleeping in his bed was the only remaining anchor to his old life, and there were no excuses left, no reason to avoid the self-examination he knew was overdue.

Maria had asked him about the women who had come after Agathe. But was that even the right place to start? It wasn't that he didn't know what to tell her, because he did. Over the years, Georg had given quite a bit of thought to the question of why he'd bedded what had seemed like half the women in Europe, and why he'd stopped. And, although Maria hadn't asked about it, he also knew exactly what had gone wrong in the cave. He knew the real reason he'd taken off Agathe's ring when he left Austria, though he hadn't wanted to admit it to Maria, or to himself. Memories of the tsunami – he hadn't quite sorted all of that out yet.

After tonight, there was no going back to the way things were before, even if he had only a vague plan for what to do next. He had behaved atrociously, and the only way he could make up for it, what his sense of honor required of him, was that he tell her what she wanted to know, and even some things she didn't know, but needed to. And then he would explain it to her, what would have to happen next. He wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing, on top of everything he'd already put her through, but there was no point in asking her opinion, because there was no choice, no other option, no way out. All he had to do was summon the courage to tell her.

The hour was late, and tomorrow would bring fresh challenges. Georg climbed into bed, threw an arm across his companion, and let himself slide into sleep.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

He took her again in the morning, even before the sky had begun to lighten. He had, of course, intended otherwise, having resolved to devote morning's first grey light to a sober discussion of where things stood between them. But after a few hours' rest, surrounded by her sweet scent, and with her taste still on his lips, desire for her began humming in his veins even before he was fully awake.

Georg opened his eyes to find her seated cross-legged next to him, her arms crossed neatly across her breasts while she assessed him from head to toe with a gaze as carnal as any caress. Her blue eyes found his, looking up at him through a dark fringe of lashes: the same enticing look she'd fixed on him by the woodshed, the afternoon of their first kiss.

He was instantly as hard as stone.

"We _are_ going to," she breathed. It wasn't a question, or a request, or even a statement. It was a demand, really.

"We can't," he pleaded. "I don't want to hurt you."

Her eyes stilled him with a wordless response: they both knew it wouldn't be the first time he'd hurt her, and it might not even be the last.

And there would still be plenty of time, afterward, to say what had to be said. In another hour or two, the sun would be climbing its way up the sky, and after he spoke his piece, perhaps nothing between them could ever be the same.

What else could he do? It was what he always did, after all. He eased Maria onto her back and covered her, cupping his hand between her legs to find her slick with desire.

A sudden surge of tenderness overtook him, so different from last night's raging passion, though he couldn't say why. "Like this, love," he murmured, sliding into her as gently as he could, showing her how to wrap her arms and legs around him until she clung to him like a vine to a tree. "Hold on, now, and don't let go."

"I won't," she gasped, pulling him deeper inside, until he wasn't sure where he ended and she began. "Just please don't stop."

"I won't," Georg promised.

Knit together, they moved as one, slowly at first, riding along on a gentle current that was as mild as a breeze, as soft as a sigh, as sweet as a dream. Leaning back, he drank in the sight of her sublime beauty, innocence transported by ecstasy _._ She felt like heaven around him, and he wanted it to go on forever, but already, the storm was gathering its menacing strength.

"Stay with me," he ordered, and then "stay with me," he repeated, begging her now, and after that, the breath strangled in his throat. Every part of him was swept along in the dizzying rush, as he pressed into her, hot and deep. When he felt her tighten around him and heard her high, sweet cry, when the towering wave broke and pulled them both under, he could no more have left her than stopped breathing.

They lay in the aftermath, listening to the waves outside the window slap at the shore. Maria looked up at him, blinking dazedly, while he smoothed his fingers through her wild golden hair. He felt utterly at ease, oddly unconcerned, other than mild curiosity about whether she realized what he had done. Or failed to do. Suddenly, she lifted her head and sent an enchanting smile his way, one that outshone any sunrise. It was a joy, to see her self-confidence restored, like a thirst-slaked plant.

"I suppose it's _my_ turn to ask: did you like it?" he teased.

"You know that I did," she blushed.

"It's not like anything else, is it?"

"Well, no. It's astonishing, really to be so-" she groped for the word, "so _intimate_ with another human being _._ Now I appreciate what all the fuss is about! It's brilliant, so much, much _more_ than I ever could have imagined. Although," a little smile curved her lips, "some things about it _were_ familiar."

Had the little governess indulged in some self-exploration? He felt a stir of interest at the thought of her lying in her virginal bed, slender fingers pushing aside her heavy nightgown, drifting upward, gently stroking. "And exactly what in your experience, Fraulein Maria, was _familiar_ about that?"

"You."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You," she shrugged, laughing. " _You_ are the exactly the same in bed as you are everywhere else! So high-handed! Telling me what to do. Directing me to take my clothes off, where to put my hands, my legs, my-"

"Now hold on a minute." Georg wasn't offended, not exactly, just surprised. "You didn't seem to have a great deal of confidence. Understandably. If I'd waited for you to decide what to do, we'd still be in the parlor drinking brandy! And as for telling you to undress, I was _trying_ to give you a bit of control over things, rather than taking your permission for granted and stripping you bare myself." Acting purely on instinct, he reached to capture her wrists in one hand and pulled them gently over her head. "And don't think I couldn't have."

Her eyes went wide and bright, not with fear, but with something _else_ , something that made his breath catch. In the cave, before he'd lost control of things, he had dragged his fingers, hard, against her breasts, and she had cried out, shuddering with pleasure. "You – ehrm – you needed a firm hand, is all," he fumbled. Now that he had made his point, he let her hands fall. "And, Maria, you _liked_ it, didn't you? The truth, now."

For an answer, she turned bright red and buried her face in his neck. That should have been answer enough, but the moment was too promising to let go.

"Maria." He tugged gently at her curls, pulling her away, forcing her to face him. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. And I'll prove it to you. There's nothing says we can't switch it around."

"I don't understand," she frowned.

"Next time, _you_ can tell _me_ what to do."

" _You_ taking orders from _me_?" she scoffed.

"Oh, but I would like that very much. You can even," he ran a gentle finger down her throat and lower, skimming across her breasts, "be on top. Would you like that?"

That voice again, like rough velvet, dark and sweet. On _top?_ Up until a few hours ago, Maria had had only the vaguest idea of how men's and women's bodies were supposed to fit together. She wondered what else she had no idea about. The thought was positively thrilling.

The Captain – Georg, she told herself, _Georg_ , stretched out next to her, propped on one elbow, watching her as though she were the most important person in the world. Maria thought she might explode from happiness, sending blissful little bits of her floating up into the sky. The misery and humiliation she'd endured in the cave receded into memory. "Next time," he had said. So there would be a next time, and maybe a time after that. Of course, Maria knew this was a temporary interlude. The Cap – Georg would be going on to England as soon as he could. She wondered what would happen now that their marriage could not be undone. But she wouldn't think about that right now.

As if he'd read her mind, he sat up and took both of her hands in his. "Maria," he said quietly, his eyes fixed on hers, "we need to talk about what's going to happen next. With us, I mean. And about your going on to Vienna."

 _Tap-tap-THUD. Tap-tap-THUD. THUD. THUD. Tap-tap-tap._

He froze for a moment before letting out a curse and leaping from the bed.

Maria let out a strangled groan of frustration. Who could possibly be knocking on the door at this hour? No one knew they were here. And he had been just about to say something, he had been on the verge of -

"Don't go," she pleaded. "It's probably a mistake."

But then the summons repeated.

 _Tap-tap-THUD. Tap-tap-THUD. THUD. THUD. Tap-tap-tap._

"It's Leo. That's our signal."

"I thought Leo was gone!"

"If he's come back, it's for good reason. And likely an urgent one."

Georg went to the open door that led into the parlor, shouted something in the direction of the outer door, and scrambled into his trousers.

"It will only be a few minutes at most, darling," he apologized. He kissed her bare shoulder, a tender gesture that was as intimate as anything that had come before. "Do me a favor in the meantime, will you? Put something on. You're entirely too distracting like that, and I keep losing my train of thought. When I come back, we'll have a talk."

Maria heard the outer door to the hallway open, and the low, garbled tones of the two men speaking Italian: it was Leo, just as he'd said.

She slid from the bed, shivering in the breeze that wafted through the window. Where were her clothes, anyway? She looked around the room – there was the carved wooden box she'd carried with her to Italy, that held his valuables, including her wedding ring. Those must be his new books, a stack of slender, colorfully bound volumes.

Her clothes, it turned out had been neatly arranged on a chair. She shook out her dress, the one she'd left the Abbey in weeks before. Not only was it rumpled and stained, but with its high waist and rough fabric, it was more suitable for a village girl than for a woman. No, that dress was not meant for Maria, not anymore.

Another gust of chilly air sent her toward the closet. For now, his dressing gown would have to do. At first, all she saw were men's shirts, trousers and a jacket hanging neatly, but then a flash of color at her feet caught her eye.

A small valise, made of blush-pink leather, sat half-open on the floor. A froth of lace spilled from the top – scarlet knickers, she saw, and another bit of lingerie she didn't even know the word for, although the sight of it turned her cheeks pink. She crouched by the valise, exploring. There were stockings as fine as a whisper, slippers made for dancing. There was a soft bag that held a vial of perfume and a pot of rouge. There was a warm, soft jacket and skirt, the color of golden autumn leaves.

Next, her fingers found something dark, soft as velvet, smooth as silk, light as air; when she lifted the garment and shook it out, she saw it was an evening dress, although one that would show as much skin as dress.

She knew what would come next even before she found it: a small box that held long earrings and necklaces, all sparkling with small diamonds.

The afternoon by the woodshed, she had spoken in favor of scarlet and gold, but he had recommended indigo velvet. Like the night sky. With diamonds.

He had outfitted her for Vienna.

Maria saw it all clearly now: he had arranged these final gifts to her, including the night in his bed she'd very nearly begged him for, that she'd shamed him into. And now he was sending her on her way. She had known, of course, that this was a temporary interlude, but she hadn't seen it for what it was: one whose conclusion had been so anticipated, so carefully, cold-heartedly planned. While she'd been thinking about the next time, he'd been thinking about the end. If she had expected anything else, even for a moment, that had been her foolish mistake.

She'd have to move fast.

First, she went to turn on the tub, and left it running when she backed out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her. If she were lucky, he'd lose at least a few minutes, thinking she was having a bath. Back in the bedroom, Maria pulled on her wrinkled, soiled dress and convent-issued knickers.

Money. She'd need money, or valuables, at least. Her eyes fell on the carved wooden box and yanked it open, only to recoil at the sight: there were the photograph and his medal, there were the Agathe-and-Georg rings, identical but for size, worn with age, and next to them there was her wedding ring, turned black, green and purple. A bit of junk, not even worth keeping. She hurled the box at the wall; it fell to the floor, unharmed, but her heart was shattered.

Eyes stinging, hands shaking, she forced herself to keep searching until she found a knapsack tucked under the chair, a knapsack like the ones they'd carried to Italy, but this one was half-stuffed with currency in many different sizes and colors, tied into neat bundles. Well, he had agreed to pay her, hadn't he?

She hoisted the knapsack onto her shoulders, slipped on her shoes, and raced to the window. It was only a short drop to the beach, and from there, she could make her way around to the front of the hotel and somehow get to the train station in time for the early train to Milan. She hesitated for a moment, but the conversation in the next room had ceased and she heard the outer door close.

Throwing one leg and then the other over the windowsill, she flung herself out into the dawn.

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 **Thank you for reading my story. Sorry this was so long, but I did could not bring myself to, well, interrupt-us. As it were. "Not on the mouth, anyway" is courtesy of bloomandgrow, in one of the funniest comments I've ever received on any story. I don't own anything about TSOM.**


	15. On the Run Part 1

**ON THE RUN, PART ONE**

Her little trick – leaving the water running as though she were taking a bath – didn't fool Georg for a minute. He knew she was gone, because he felt her absence as acutely as though she'd been a limb severed from his body. He was, however, surprised that the knapsack half-full of currency had vanished along with her. From nearly-nun to thief in the space of a season, he thought wryly.

"Leo!" he bellowed, hurrying into a shirt and shoving his feet into his shoes. The hallway was empty, but a minute later, when he burst into the inn's courtyard, the little man was standing there, cursing and gesturing wildly with his one good arm at the empty space where his cart and horses had been parked.

It wasn't hard to figure out where she'd been headed. And she couldn't be that far ahead of them, not in that rig, Georg thought, yanking Leo into the back seat of a taxi and urging the driver to hurry. When they arrived at the town's modest railroad station, he left Leo to pay the driver and track down his horses and wagon, and raced into the building.

Fortunately, even at this busy hour, it was possible to survey the little station quickly. It was especially easy for to spot the object of his search, with her bright hair. But what was that she was holding? And what kind of disturbance had she found herself in the middle of? The _last_ thing they needed right now was to be the subject of attention.

He shouldered his way through the murmuring crowd to discover his bride, tugging with great determination at one end of a long, slender sausage, but unable to wrest the other end from the grip of a stout sausage-cart vendor, who was shouting at her, in vivid Italian, calling her a thief and worse.

"What seems to be the problem?" Georg asked, expecting and earning immediate control of the situation. He glanced at Maria, who scowled at him and clutched her end of the sausage to her chest.

"This lady ordered a sausage, but then she tried to trick me with fake money!" the vendor said indignantly. Turning to the crowd, he asked, "Will somebody please call the police?"

"That won't be necessary," Georg soothed him. "She's my wife, you see-"

"Man ought to be able to control his wife," said a bystander.

"She looks like trouble," a woman commented.

"Can you blame her? Why, look at the poor girl!" another said sympathetically. "She's barely half his age, I'd wager."

After sizing up the situation, lamenting his inability to threaten the crowd with a court-martial, and thanking heaven that Maria would not be able to understand what he was about to say, Georg turned back toward the vendor.

"She's just a foolish girl, you can see that. I'll make sure you are fairly compensated for your sausage. Show me the money she gave you."

The round little man clung to his end of the sausage with one hand, but with the other, he produced a red-and-white bank note featuring His Majesty George V.

Georg – the Captain, not the King – could not resist having a bit of fun with her, even though she was unknowingly putting them both at risk.

"You know," he threw over his shoulder at her, "you could have bought enough sausages to feed His Majesty's Navy with that bank note. _If_ you were in England. But your money – although let's not lose sight of the fact that technically, it's _my_ money, now, isn't it? – your money is no good in Italy." He dug into his pocket and flipped a coin at the merchant, who let go of his end of the sausage so quickly that Maria stumbled backward.

"Go on now," Georg told the crowd which, of course, immediately and obediently dispersed, leaving him alone with his _dis_ obedient governess, wife and chief tormentor.

One thing was clear: _what_ ever she was, Maria was furious with him. In the time he'd taken to answer the door and speak with Leo, _something_ had happened, something that had so upset or frightened her that she had fled the hotel. Through all of their ups and downs, he'd never seen her glower quite so hatefully at him. Well, he was more than a little perturbed himself.

"Running away again? What a _charming_ idea," he began. "Has it ever occurred to you to face your problems instead of running away from them? What is it you can't face this time, Maria?"

"Leave me alone!"

Despite the trouble she was making for him at this very minute, he couldn't help but feel sorry for her, the way she looked around for help while passers-by, rushing to make the train to Milan, pushed past the arguing couple.

He took the knapsack in one hand and wrapped the fingers of his other hand around her wrist.

"Come on, Maria. I'm taking you back to the hotel. We'll talk about it there. There's not much time-"

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she fumed, jerking her hand away from him. "And if you touch me again, I'll call the police."

"Really." With great difficulty, he kept control of his temper. " _That_ ought to be interesting. You go ahead and explain it to them, why don't you? _If_ you can find someone to translate for you, you'll learn that the Italians are no more progressive in their attitudes toward women than the Austrians, and they're certainly less efficient. Once I tell them that you stole a small fortune from me, I imagine it might be a year or more before they'll be able to organize a trial."

"I'm your _wife,"_ she hissed.

"Exactly. As far as they're concerned, you're mine to do with as I like. And might I remind you-" he hesitated, looking around. The station was quickly emptying, and the few remaining travelers probably didn't speak German, "-might I remind you that as a result of my irresponsible behavior this morning, you quite possibly could be carrying my child?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He leaned close to her, wrapping his hand around her nape so she couldn't pull away, and whispered in her ear.

"I finished inside you."

He'd expected blushes, or even tears, but when he stepped away, he saw that she'd gone white beneath her freckles. He tried not to take it personally, the horror written on her face. So she hadn't understood it, not all of it, anyway.

"When did you last bleed?"

" _What?_ "

Her face went from white to red.

"Never mind that. The point is that you are stuck with me," he said as calmly as he could, "at least for a while, and there are certain further developments you are unaware of. Now. Let's find a taxi, shall we?"

"I'll leave when I'm ready to," she said sullenly.

"I'll pick you up and carry you out of here if I have to," he threatened, conscious of the precious time he didn't have to argue with her, and hovering near the end of his patience. Fortunately, the threat did its job, and she shuffled reluctantly beside him as they made their way out of the station and into a taxi. It was impossible to miss her tentative gait, and the way she winced every time the taxi hit a bump. Her discomfort was his doing, he knew, and his anger momentarily softened, replaced by a twinge of guilt for at the obvious consequences of their night together.

Once they were safely back in his rooms, though, their battle of wills continued.

"Sit down, Maria."

"I believe I'll stand, _Captain."_

"Well, _I_ believe you'll sit, _Fraulein,_ with or without my help."

It immediately occurred to him that she might be more comfortable standing, but by then it was too late to rescind his order. She sat, but barely, perching on the edge of a settee as though poised for escape. Georg leaned back against the door to the hallway, just in case she tried to flee before he was finished saying his piece, and crossed his arms across his chest.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself, Fraulein?"

"I hate you!"

"You have an odd way of showing it," he said smugly, tilting his head toward the bedroom, where the scent of their lovemaking still lingered.

"That? That meant _nothing_ to me. I needed my virginity removed to prepare myself for Vienna. I wanted to – to practice. And I accomplished my purpose," she said, lifting her chin at him in that way that he had learned hid her fear. She might have been trying to convey an air of superiority, but her odd metaphors, as though she were either a musician or a Christmas goose, gave her away.

"Let's start at the very beginning, shall we? I leave you in my bed, all warm and pink and sated and positively glowing with happiness, and not five minutes later, you run away. Why did you?"

"Because I hate you!" she raged. "I despise you. You're arrogant."

"True, but no more so than yesterday, or any other day since we met."

"And high-handed."

"I seem to recall you rather liked my high-handedness," he said slyly, but if he'd expected a blush, he was disappointed.

"And you are cruel."

"Cruel?" Georg put a hand to his heart. "Now _that_ wounds me. Because you are one of the few people who has peeled away the tough skin and found my tender heart, and for you to-"

"You _are_ cruel. You wanted me to go away, and I gave you what you wanted. I left. But no. You have to drag me back here purely for the pleasure of sending me away yourself? It's not enough for you to chase me back to Austria without being able to savor my suffering first-hand?"

"What the hell? What do you mean, send you away?"

"I saw your going away gifts. I don't want your diamonds. Or dresses. Or any red – red – whatevers. Can't you just let me go?"

She was pleading now, more than raging. Georg took a deep breath and pushed himself away from the door.

"If you would stop running away from your problems, Maria, I'd have had a chance to explain."

He seated himself beside her and reached for her hand, but she turned away from him.

"Maria. I've been dishonest, to both of us, and utterly unfair to you. There's a great deal I ought to have told you. But to start, I had no intention of sending you away. I wanted to _take_ you away."

"What does that mean?"

"I thought I would take you to Paris. It's too late to give you a proper wedding, but I thought you might enjoy a real honeymoon. It would be a chance for -"

"A chance for me to keep you entertained while you wait for permission to enter England? A chance for me to spend a few days or a week or a month in your bed before you send me away for good? Why would I want that?"

He drew another deep breath.

"It's nothing like that. The truth is, that there was never any problem with my entering England, none at all. I invented that bit yesterday, on the spot. I asked John to take the children on ahead, so that you and I could have some time alone. So that I could talk to you, so I could try and make you see-"

"Oh, I see things very clearly now," she said bitterly.

"Well, I've seen nothing clearly, not for months, Maria. I spent the entire summer utterly bemused. After the party, when you ran back to Nonnberg? Nothing was the same when you were away, and it will be all wrong if you leave me again. And since last night – no, since the cave – no, since the waterfall – maybe even since that damned party, since - I don't know _when_ it started, but when I close my eyes, all I see is you, and damn it, I can't bear it, not knowing what will become of you."

Now her eyes, ice-blue and mistrustful, met his.

"That's nonsense."

"I pour my heart out and that's all you have to say?"

"If that's what you wanted," she said suspiciously, "then why didn't you just say so last night? 'Just this once,' you said."

"I believe that was you, not me."

"Nothing about honeymoons," she went on, ignoring him, "or your elusive _feelings_ for me or -"

"I was screwing up my courage to talk to you about it the whole time, over dinner. But then I panicked. All your talk of Vienna! I started to second guess myself, and I fell back on the one thing you've been asking for. Which was _me_ in _your_ bed, not the other way around. It seems to be the only thing _anyone_ wants from me," he said broodingly. "I thought it would soften you up, you know, and then I could introduce the idea. Of taking you to Paris."

Maria's brow furrowed in confusion.

"I still don't understand. Honeymoons are for people who want to be married. You want us to be married after all? Because you certainly haven't acted that way, starting with the wedding. "

"I told you. That day was very difficult for me. It was – it was like putting her in the ground all over again."

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth: an unthinkably atrocious tactical error, the consequences of which were apparent when Maria jerked to her feet and pointed an accusing finger at him.

"Don't play the heartbroken widower with me, Captain. You had already decided to remarry, remember? Baroness Schrader?"

"That was different. Elsa, she was _suitable,_ but she was never going to replace Agathe in my heart. I didn't love her."

For a moment, they stared at each other, both too stunned to speak.

"Are you saying you love _me_?" she asked cautiously.

"Well. I mean, Elsa said I did. That was another reason she wouldn't marry me, besides Bremerhaven."

"I don't care what she thought. I want to know what _you_ think. Do _you_ think you love me?"

The disbelief was written all over her lovely face, along with hope, and yearning, and yes, love. He wanted to be the reason she would look that way forever, but he owed her honesty too. He owed her the truth.

"Answer me! Are you saying you love me?" she repeated.

He hesitated for a moment, a moment as short as a breath, or a blink of an eye, or the beat of a heart, but it was a moment long and wide enough that he could see Maria fall into it and disappear. Even knowing that moment of hesitation might have lost her to him, Georg was not brave enough to go after her, only to stand at the edge of the abyss and call her back.

"Maria, wait! Wait! I-I don't know. I don't know! Perhaps I might have loved you all along, and it was so different with you that I didn't recognize it. I mean, I _must_ love you, I suppose you could say that, but I'm afraid."

Maria slumped back onto the settee, trying to cling to the fragile thread of hope in this confounding conversation, but it kept slipping from her grasp. Weeks of being buffeted by emotions and sensations she could never have imagined were catching up with her.

"Afraid?" she asked, although _she_ was afraid of the answer. Wasn't the proper answer to "do you love me?" supposed to be 'yes,' preferably, or failing that, at least a crisp and decisive 'no?'

"I'm afraid that I won't be able to love you the way you deserve. God knows, I don't deserve you _,_ not after how I've behaved. I don't want to botch it and cause you any more pain. But I've tried for months to resist it, and I'm out of excuses not to try. And I'm not ready to let you go. Please don't give up on me, Maria. Come to Paris."

Maria didn't think her heart or mind could take much more from this complicated man. He had warned her from the start, not that she'd needed any warning about how broken he was.

"Can I think about it?" she asked. He had always given her that, hadn't he? Time to think, to consider, to understand.

"No." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, but there's no time for that."

"What?"

"The Germans will be here for me in a matter of hours. That's why Leo was here, to warn me. The Italians, for all their inefficiency, managed to get word to Zeller that the children are on their way to England, and that you have disappeared. Naturally, they've concluded I'm in the vicinity. Need I point out that it was not the wisest course of action for me to show myself in the station?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't know-"

"I had it all worked out," he continued, "I thought we'd have breakfast and then board the Paris train, dressed like civilized people for a change. At this point, I'm afraid that instead, as soon as night falls, I'll be creeping back into the forest, and trying to make my way to France."

He took her hand in his, pressed his lips to her palm.

"I have no right to ask it of you, Maria, and I can't make any promises about something I can't understand myself. But I am asking you to come with me. To France, if we're lucky, and then to Paris."

Maria's head was swimming.

"Hold on. Let me understand this." She yanked her hand away, clenched it into a fist that lay in her lap. "You want me to turn my back on Austria and crawl back into the woods with you while you ponder whether you can manage to love me?" Her voice cracked with anguish. "This has got to stop, this running hot and cold. 'Come to me, Maria. No, no, get away from me. Help me, Maria. Leave me alone, Maria. I want you, Maria. You mean nothing to me, Maria.'"

"Maria, you've got to listen to me." He was on his feet again, running his hands through his hair, a note of panic in his voice like she'd never heard before. "What I feel for you – there hasn't been anything like it, not since-"

He stalked over to where the carved wooden box, surrounded by its spilled contents, still lay on the floor, where it had fallen after her tantrum.

"Do you see this ring?" He picked up the largest ring, the one he'd been wearing when they met, and brandished it at her. "I wore this ring for twenty years. Sixteen years married, and four years widowed. And I _never_ took it off, not even when I was in bed with – God, I don't know, a couple of dozen women at least, maybe more. But I took it off when I came to meet you in Italy, and do you know why?"

"Y-you said it was out of respect for me, for agreeing to marry you and help rescue the children."

"I did it for you, all right. But not the way you think. I did it because I knew. I _knew_ that you and I wouldn't make it out of Italy without – that I was about to leave her behind, not only her body rotting in that cemetery, but my devotion to her, her trust in me, because I knew it was going to be different with you."

"So you did it for her?" Maria said in a small voice that was all she could manage from inside her deep well of horror and humiliation.

"If you want to look at it that way, but that was not my point. My point is that, perhaps, I was already starting to feel something for you."

Giving him as wide a berth as possible, Maria rose and went to retrieve her own wedding ring, tarnished past recognition, pinching it between her fingers like the distasteful object it was. She waved it under his nose.

"Fake. Rubbish. Sham."

"Oh." He tugged at his ear. "I'm – ehrm – I'm sorry about that. I was in a hurry, and I sent the office boy out to – I was not myself that day. Please try to understand."

"I understand, all right. I understand that I never should have agreed to marry you, even for the children's sake. It was a lie from the start, as false as that ring, and meanwhile you have taken everything from me. You took my innocence-"

"Now hold on," his face flushed, "surely you know how hard I tried to resist you. I was only trying to make you happy."

"And you took my vocation."

"Now that," he clenched his fists by his side, " _that_ is not fair. We both know that was not the life you were born to live. Anyone can look at you and know you were born to be a wife and mother. You are so afraid of losing another family, that you borrowed mine, rather than marry some nice young man and start one of your own. _Vienna,_ " he spat. "The _idea_ of you carousing about Vienna."

She covered her hurt feelings with an elaborate shrug.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe my time with your family opened my eyes to what I want. Unfortunately, it also opened my eyes to the fact that you will probably never be able to give it to me."

"So you're running away again? Just like you always do?"

"I'm sorry, Captain. Georg. I can't risk it."

"Risk?" he asked, but she didn't bother to answer.

"God be with you, Georg," she said quietly. She was halfway out the door when he called to her.

"Maria?"

She paused, one hand on the doorknob.

"Just one more question before you go, and this time, I want a truthful answer from you. The night of the party – why _did_ you run away to the Abbey?"

There was no reason to hide it from him now, it was out in plain sight if he cared to look for it.

"It was Baroness Schrader. She said that _I_ was in love with _you,_ too."

"And the idea was so repulsive that you fled back to the convent?"

"No," she managed a tired smile. "No, it was something else she said. That nothing's more irresistible to a man than a woman who's in love with him. She said you'd get over it soon enough. And I can't-"

He took a step toward her.

"Maria, please-"

"No!" Maria clung to the doorknob like a life raft at sea. "No. _No._ Because I won't be able to bear it, Georg. _Captain_. To find out that she was right."

He made no further move to stop her. That was the end of it, then. Maria slipped from the room, closing the door behind her.

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 **Thanks for reading my story. Like I said recently, there keep being three more chapters; this chapter just got too long, so the rest of it will be published in a day or two, and then two chapters after that (I think). This long holiday weekend in the U.S. has let me do lots of writing, but after that, alas, writing time will be hard to come by in the next few weeks! Anyway, I am very grateful for the reviews I get, they tell me where I've missed the mark, but I also remind you not to feel guilty about taking a review holiday. Don't own, all for love.**


	16. On the Run Part 2

**ON THE RUN, PART TWO**

For an hour or longer, Maria stood by the window in her small, sun-filled room, watching the sea. Her dearest wish, for a chance at her Captain's love and a future with his family, had been within reach, and she had run away from it.

Or perhaps all that had been within reach was more heartbreak. Twice now, despite his warnings, despite knowing what she could expect from him, she had offered him everything she had to give. And what had he given her in return? Affection, tenderness, unimaginable pleasure, yes, all those things. Everything but his heart. His wife, lying cold in her grave, still had that.

She was surprised, and grateful, that there was so little pain. Even his warning that she might be carrying his child seemed not quite real. Instead, she was numb, overcome by exhaustion, hollow to the core.

For the first little while, wispy thoughts floated through her mind, thoughts she couldn't quite cling to long enough to make sense of them, thoughts about love, and about love _making_. The two sounded so similar, but for the Captain, they were different things. But she had confused them too, perhaps, letting passion overrule her good sense. Had she been wrong to go to bed with him? It hadn't been wrong, because they were married. It had been wrong, because he didn't love her. It hadn't been wrong, because she loved him.

She watched the light's play over the sea change as the sun rose to its highest point in the sky and then began its slow afternoon descent. When a soft knock came at the door, she didn't bother to answer, but when it repeated itself a quarter hour later and a quarter-hour after that, like some kind of demented alarm clock, she answered.

The red-haired housemaid stood there, a big tray in both hands, with the handle of a familiar pink valise hooked over her elbow. Maria smiled her thanks at the girl, left the valise in the hallway, and took the tray inside. Only after she had choked down a slice of toast and a few swallows of tea did she notice what lay piled next to the plate: three thin volumes and an envelope. She was half-inclined to throw the envelope in the fireplace unread, but there was no fire there to consume it, and curiosity overcame her.

Inside the envelope: a crisp bundle of German marks, and a single page in his distinctive script.

 _Maria,_

 _My solicitor in Vienna is Herr Apfel at 26 Weisstrasse. If there are any consequences from my irresponsible behavior this morning, I pray that you will be neither so foolish nor imprudent not to seek his assistance. He is utterly discreet and has been instructed to look after your interests._

 _If there are no such consequences, then he may be of assistance should you wish to end the marriage. I know this is no longer technically possible, but since the marriage was not blessed by the Church, I suspect your Reverend Mother may be helpful in seeing a way through this difficulty. As you know, I do not intend to marry again, and so there is no need to address the situation on my behalf._

Maria didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed to have received such a business-like communication from him. They both had all the emotion wrung out of them by now, she thought with a sigh, and read on.

 _The matter of my feelings for you aside, I am not happy to see you return to Austria. No one knows what will happen with the Germans, but I am quite certain it will be worse than anything any of us can even imagine. Please try to be careful._

 _My greatest comfort is knowing that my children brought you happiness, but my greatest regret is that I caused you so much pain. I would apologize if there were words equal to the harm I've done you. Of all the disappointments life has brought me, I find this one the most puzzling, since the truth is, I'm a better man when I'm near you, and you will be on my mind and in my heart until I draw my last breath. My greatest fear is that my failure to give you all you_ _want and_ _deserve, will cause you to think less of yourself._

 _Needing to travel light, I must leave these books behind._

There, the letter ended abruptly. A signature was unnecessary, and perhaps he found it impossible to settle on a closing salutation. She pictured him, tapping his pen impatiently on the page, deliberating among the choices. Was it to be 'best regards,' 'with appreciation,' 'with affection', 'with love?' Or possibly the ambiguous 'yours?'

Maria put the letter aside and flipped through the three slim books. Her eyes scrabbled for purchase in the first two, written in languages she didn't read. When she opened the third to see the familiar German, her eyes landed immediately on a phrase that stood out on the page:

 _With my heart as with a hand._

She read the entire poem. Then she read it a second time, and a third. Maria read that poem over and over again, as the light in the little room turned from lemon-yellow to silver.

"Dear God," she whispered, "what have I done?"

A moment later, she was out the door, stumbling over the pink valise. She snatched it up, holding it before her awkwardly as she raced down the stairs and along the corridor, and knocked on his door. After nightfall, he'd said, and the sun had not quite disappeared.

She pounded at the door, again and again, until her knuckles bruised with the effort, but there was no answer, and she was forced to admit she'd lost her chance.

She was too late.

Maria slid to the floor, and sat, arms wrapped around her knees, considering the consequences of a lifetime of running away.

What would have happened if, three months after her arrival at Nonnberg, she'd gone to Reverend Mother and said out loud what they were all already thinking: "Mother, this is not the life I was born to live." Instead, three years wasted, three years of running away to the mountains and away from the truth, three years of trouble for the sisters. Even poor Sister Berthe.

What would have happened if, instead of running back to Nonnberg, she had faced Baroness Schrader down? "Thank you, Baroness, but I will sort things out with Captain von Trapp for myself. Now, if you would hand me that blue dress? I believe Herr Detweiler is saving me a seat for dinner."

What would have happened this morning, if she had asked the Captain about the clothing and, having heard him out, followed him to France? Instead, she had left him, broken by grief and self-pity. She had abandoned him as surely as he had refused to abandon Leo, pinned to the wall of that submarine.

For the rest of her life, Maria would yearn for her Captain, miss the way he had fit against her. For the rest of her life, she would feel his absence as though it were Leo's missing limb.

 _Leo!_

She scrambled to her feet and rapped out the combination.

 _Tap-tap-THUD. Tap-tap-THUD. THUD. THUD. Tap-tap-tap._

She nearly fainted with relief when the door opened a crack.

"Leo?"

"No. It's me. Maria. Can I talk to you?"

"Certainly."

He stepped aside to let her enter, and she saw that he had undergone yet another magical transformation: he was no longer Salzburg Captain, having changed back into his forest clothes – rough trousers, shirt and warm jacket, worn boots.

"What is it you need, Fraulein?"

She was disappointed, but not surprised, that he showed no emotion over her return.

"Captain. It seems that once again, it falls to me to point out to you the obvious. Just like I did about your children."

"I don't have much time, Fraulein."

Her heart began to hammer in her chest.

"Captain. When I went back to the Abbey, you worried constantly about my happiness, didn't you?"

"I suppose, yes, but-"

"In the beginning, you played along with my going to Vienna, even though you were worried that it would be a disaster, even though wanted me for yourself, because you thought it was what I wanted. You only told me to marry someone else, because you knew perfectly well I wouldn't."

"Well-"

"You're afraid something will happen to me, like it did to her, aren't you?" This had been a pure hunch on Maria's part, without much evidence, but his face gave him away.

"I didn't -"

"All this time, you loved me. I don't care if you think so. I _know_ so. And so did your Baroness Schrader!"

"She wasn't my-"

"You're right. I have been a coward, always running away. But _you_ are a coward for staying still! Maybe you will be able to survive without me. You can always find another woman to warm your bed. But if you are so concerned for my welfare, then consider this, _Captain_." It was a relief to let the tears slide down her cheeks.

"What do you think is going to happen to _me_ , when I have to go on without _you_?"

Maria watched the muscles in his throat work as he swallowed. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

And then he reached for her, and she was in his arms, and his mouth found hers. He kissed her, urgently, drinking down her words like a man in a desert who had found an oasis at last.

Even if he couldn't say them back. Just as suddenly as he'd kissed her, he released her.

"Was that you at the door before?"

Giddy with relief, Maria nearly laughed out loud at the near-farcical change in his tone.

"Yes. I-"

She considered explaining about the poem, but his kiss had left her so dizzy that its words had already faded from her memory, and meanwhile the Captain was all business. She could see there was no more time for kisses or embraces, for banter or emotions. There was only a whirl of activity as he fit a last few things into the same knapsack she'd stolen this morning.

"All your banging on the door - I thought it was _them_. The Germans. Leo's been here and gone, already, with supplies and a rough map." He began to tie a bedroll to the bottom of the knapsack. "I'm afraid he didn't know there would be two of us."

He pointed to the pink valise.

"It's going to be a rough trip. The shoes you've got on are sturdy enough, but you'll need something warm to wear. Take the jacket. And the diamonds. The rest of it, we'll have to leave behind. We can replace it when – if – we get to Paris."

"Right."

Maria dug around for what she needed and tucked the valise and its remaining contents back in the bedroom closet. Perhaps the red-headed housemaid could make use of her beautiful things.

When she returned to the parlor, he was gently poking his booted toe at the carved wooden box where it lay on the floor, surrounded by its contents. He glanced at her, waiting for her to nod her permission before he bent over, swept everything into the box, closed it, and tucked it into the knapsack.

At the sight of her pitiful wedding ring, Maria pushed away a little bubble of panic. Was she making a terrible mistake, allowing Captain von Trapp an opportunity to humiliate her yet again? She didn't even completely understand how she could love him, after everything that had happened. He had repeatedly warned her of his shortcomings and she had let him hurt her anyway, terribly so. She was angry at him. But she couldn't leave him there, could she? Not only because she would never be able to make her peace with her own feelings, but because he needed her, just as Leo had once needed him.

The Captain knew a great deal about lovemaking. Despite the circumstances, Maria felt her cheeks turn pink at the thought that there was probably still a great deal she didn't know, that he would be happy to teach her. But he had never been very good at love. Look at how he'd nearly lost his children!

She might not have been able to make one kind of vow at Nonnberg. But, watching her Captain rushing about, grim-faced, Maria made herself a promise she knew she'd keep. If lovemaking was all he was capable of, then that was what she would offer him in return. At the present time, it was all either one of their damaged hearts could manage. Having spoken her piece: _I love you, and you love me_ , she would never speak of love again. Whatever happened next would be up to him.

He was down to the last few details: a few banknotes left for the manager, the lights extinguished, the door to the hallway locked and bolted. He jammed a cap on his head, shouldered the knapsack, and jerked his head toward the window. Outside, the sun had sunk into the sea.

"After you, Fraulein."

For the second time in a day, Maria climbed out of the window and onto the beach.

This time, he followed right behind.

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

 **Thank you for reading my story. I hope some of you see the influence your reviews and PMs have had! (At least you got your kiss, and it might not be the last one).**

 **I know this update is short. The next chapter will be long and very complicated, and even though I'm already working on it, it's going to take two weeks, maybe longer. Hang in there! I don't own TSOM, all for love,**


	17. Chapter 17: Ten Days, Part One

**A/N: Thank you for your reviews and sweet messages asking about an update. Partly I forgot to take into account that I was going to be away on vacation last week. Also, I was way too ambitious with my plans for this next chapter, or maybe I just need an editor to curb my wordiness, but what was supposed to be a short journey has become quite a long and steamy one. So I will be publishing three or four (!) shorter updates in this part of the saga. Stick with me, because I WILL finish this story, and I hope you don't find M &G's next ten days too boring! Remember this is your review holiday, so please keep reading even if you can't review. I don't own TSOM, it's all for love.**

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 **Chapter 17: TEN DAYS, Part One**

 _ **They were in the forest for ten days.**_

 _ **When, exactly, did it happen? It was impossible to know.**_

 _ **There was no single moment of truth. It happened gradually, the way spring changes to summer, or day turns to night, or a boy becomes a man. It happened imperceptibly, in the blink of an eye, a single breath, the beat of a heart.**_

 **ONE**

On that first night, they crept down the beach, moving away from the hotel until the town was behind them and they could avoid being seen crossing the road. Standing at the bottom of the sea cliffs that hung over the coast, Georg thought back to yesterday's precarious and winding descent in Leo's cart. Now they would have to make the return upward climb more directly, and on foot.

"Ready, Fraulein?"

"Ready, Captain."

Overhead, a thin sliver of moon did little to light the way. Nor was there any path, so he picked his way carefully up the steep slope, peering into the shadows for firmly rooted saplings to pull himself upward on, or jutting rocks to cling to. At first, he could hear her behind him, her shoes skittering on rocks and roots, but after a few minutes, he was dragging air into his chest in deep, noisy gasps, and his heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he had to look over his shoulder to be certain she was still there.

It was slow going, a grueling hour's climb. There was nowhere the terrain leveled out enough to allow for a rest, and he began to worry about his companion. But every time he looked back, she was right there, matching him step for step, until they reached the top at last and collapsed, coiled together, gulping great lungfuls of air.

Suddenly and self-consciously aware of the way they lay, in the casual embrace of long-standing lovers, Georg scrambled to his feet and busied himself stripping off his jacket and wiping the sweat from his face. She remained silent, and when he glanced in her direction, it was impossible to tell what was going on beneath her golden curls, which were about all he could make out in the darkness.

Now that they had successfully made their initial escape, he had a moment to bask in simple gratitude that Maria had come back to him, but relief was very quickly overcome by an urgent craving for _more:_ after one night together, he'd gotten just enough of her to sharpen the edge of his desire, and nowhere near enough to satisfy it. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her arms, blot out every sound but her voice, sink into her consoling warmth and forget the ordeal that lay ahead for them.

But in repayment for her return, he owed Maria something more than that. After the dressing-down she'd given him before they fled the hotel, it was plain that she was furious at him, hurt, humiliated and skittish about further contact. So, on top of the challenges posed by their escape over the next few days, he was going to have to sort out what had brought them to this impasse, and why he was apparently unable to accept what she wanted to give him.

In the meanwhile, he couldn't bear the idea of causing her further heartache. No matter how difficult it might be, Georg promised himself that from this point forward, he would keep his hands off her, striving to maintain a sort of neutral zone between them.

"We'll rest here until daybreak," he told her. "In the morning, I'll be able to show you our route on the map, and you'll see that for the first couple of days, we've got to follow the coast. So no lanterns, and no fires. Too easy to spot us from down there. When we come upon some old railroad tracks, we'll turn inland, and the terrain will level out too. Things will get easier then."

In the darkness, he felt, more than saw, her quiet nod of assent. Georg felt an uncharacteristic need to fill the air between them with conversation.

"Ehrm – Fraulein Maria. About the climb up here. You were remarkable. I really am very much impressed."

"Thank you," she said quietly, but it wasn't hard to imagine what she was probably thinking.

"And another thing, Fraulein. There's something I want you to know. You don't have to worry about – I mean, I'm not going to try to – ehrm-"

"Tup me?"

" _What?"_

"Swive me? Fu-"

In a panic, he reached out and tried to clap a hand over her mouth, although it landed in her soft hair instead. He snatched his hand back as though he'd been burned.

"Where did you learn to talk like that? Nonnberg Abbey?"

"I learned those words from you. In the cave. They're other words for-"

"I know what those words mean."

"Well, what do you want me to call it? You didn't like when I called it lovemak-."

"You don't need to call it anything, because we're not going to be doing it."

"Right."

Georg strained to hear a tone behind that single syllable. Relief? Disappointment?

"I apologize, Fraulein. For having lost my temper in the cave. You had a perfectly good word for it. I just – I didn't think of the other women in my life that way."

He winced, waiting for the question – _do you think of me that way?_ But she was silent. He waited for _you promised to tell me about them._ But all she did was yawn audibly.

"Let's get some rest, Fraulein. Here, you take the bedroll."

"I'll be all right, Captain. I've got this jacket, you know."

"Take the bedroll," he said. "You'll need your strength for tomorrow."

The climb _had_ been exhausting for Maria, a strain on muscles already sore in new places from her night in his bed. But despite that, and his admonition, she stayed awake for a while, sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees, staring up into the night sky. No matter how long she turned their last confusing exchange over in her mind, she could make no sense of the Captain's newly reserved demeanor.

Having thrown in her lot with him, and having resolved to love him in the only way he knew, it was more than a little disconcerting to learn that they would no longer be lovers. Could it be that, after just one night together, he was already tired of her? After all, she hadn't had any clue about what was expected of her in bed, while the other women he'd been with must have known all sorts of secret methods and techniques she couldn't even imagine.

But then Maria remembered his kiss, urgent and claiming.

She searched the shadows until her eyes could make out his solid, reassuring bulk stretched out nearby. Surely, she told herself, the sun would come out tomorrow. It always did.

 _ **When, exactly, did it happen? It was impossible to know.**_

 **TWO**

They were up at sunrise, sharing bread, sausage, and an apple from the knapsack before setting out. Always keeping the shoreline below in sight, they slogged their way through the forest for hours, pushing thickly curtained vines aside, climbing over boulders and fallen trees. They spoke very little, stopping only so Georg could check the map, or to drink deeply when they came upon any kind of creek or spring.

At day's end, when the light waned and the forest colors faded into darkness, they set up camp and shared another simple meal. They hadn't spoken more than a few sentences all day, yet the air between them seemed peaceful and untroubled, his companion's demeanor more pensive and resolved than anything else. He made her take the bedroll again, but accepted in trade her golden jacket as a pillow for his head.

Through the lacy canopy of bare trees overhead, it was just barely possible to glimpse the slivered moon and a handful of stars. The night chill needled its way under his jacket. Georg thought longingly of warming himself against her skin, soft and rosy. As his thoughts began to wander in an unseemly direction, he cast about for a distraction.

"Fraulein Maria?"

"Hm?"

"I was thinking, and I was wondering. Why you entered Nonnberg Abbey in the first place. Why _did_ you? Just knowing you for a few months, it seems so unlikely."

Her voice floated back to him in the darkness.

"Oh! Well. I did want to serve God, you know. And like I told you, my aunt and uncle put me off marriage. They argued all the time, and they didn't seem to love each other. And of course, I had no idea about – ehrm – about what the rest of it was like."

He could practically hear her blush.

"And anyway, I suppose I wanted to be part of something bigger. Something _important._ I still want to serve God," she said wistfully, "but I just don't seem to know what's expected of me. At Nonnberg, they tell you knew exactly what to do, when to pray, what to wear, even what to think about!"

Georg burst out laughing.

"You ought to have joined the Navy! A chance to be part of something bigger than you are, and enough rules for anyone."

She laughed along with him, but then her voice grew serious.

"It's easy for you. You are always the same, everywhere you go. Salzburg Captain, forest Captain, even when you are in the middle of – ehrm – well, no matter where you are, or what you're doing, _you_ know who you are and what you ought to say or do. While I don't seem to be able to stop saying whatever I think or feel. And lately, some of the things I've done, well-"

Georg nearly choked on his guilt and shame.

"I should never have taken advantage of you that way. It was my fault, my responsibility, as a man, and one of mature years."

"But I'm not ashamed of it. What I did. What _we_ did. Are – are you?"

"No!" he said sharply. "I could never be ashamed of anything about you. And remember what I promised. No matter what happens because I – ehrm – well, I won't abandon you."

"See? That's just the kind of thing you _would_ do, being such an honorable man and all. While I behaved as no honorable girl ever would, and what's more, I'm not even sure that I regret it."

Something flickered deep inside, a spark that Georg resolutely chose to ignore.

"What I did was hardly honorable," he muttered.

"Tell me, Captain. Did you," and now there was a smile in her voice, "did you really think I was the kind of girl who wanted to drink champagne in jazz clubs?"

"Maybe you don't think of yourself that way," he told her, "but I do."

There was a long silence, broken by Maria's heartfelt sigh.

"Who knows? All I ever wanted was to be one of the sisters, to be a part of their world, and now it's like it never even existed. I've left Nonnberg behind. I've left Austria behind. And with everything else that's happened – I feel like my whole life has been swept away, leaving nothing I recognize. Not even myself. I just don't understand who I am anymore, and I don't know – oh, it's hard to explain."

"Oh, but I know _exactly_ what you mean," he said, surprising himself with the way the words tumbled eagerly from his mouth. "In Sicily, years ago, I saw a – a tidal wave, I think you'd call it, but it's really got a Japanese name, a tsunami. It's a wall of water, many stories high, that builds up at sea and when it hits land, it simply wipes away everything around it. I was up in the mountains watching when it hit. The devastation – I never again heard or saw anything like it."

"Not even at war?"

"No. When you're in battle, you see, there's the sense that you have some control over your fate. The power to change the outcome. A responsibility to your country and your men to try, at least. The tidal wave, it was – to watch it, yet be unable to do anything about it-"

"I suppose that when you are used to being in charge of everything, you feel responsible for everything, too," she mused. "It must be hard to be the sort of person who thinks he should be able to keep everyone and everything around him safe."

"Y-yes," Georg hesitated. "I suppose that's true. Look – how old are you, anyway?"

"I'm twenty-three. Why?"

"I'm forty-six," he said heavily. "Twice your age. You know, you're awfully young to be so wise."

"I was quite young when I was orphaned, Captain. Still at the age where someone ought to have been taking care of me. So I know the feeling. You wake up one morning, and all around you, people have patched things up so they look the same, and the world goes on from there but-"

"It is not ever the same, is it?" He felt his voice thicken with emotion. "And the worst of it? Is when you realize you've accepted it. That the world you knew has disappeared, and yet you are at peace."

They had been talking of the tsunami, but somehow, they weren't anymore.

Georg had dreamed of the tsunami frequently at first, but then the war had crowded out the horrific memory with its own nightmares. That horrible day in Sicily had resurfaced in his dreams just after Agathe's death, when its images of total devastation were apt, but then the memories had faded again, until the evening he had lured the little governess into his cave.

For hours after Maria ran from him that night, he could think of nothing but the tsunami. It was at that moment that he had had his first inkling that, after many false starts, the escape from Austria in the company of the little governess had carried him away from the past and toward a very different future. Confronting this hard reality had simply been too much for him to bear. He pictured himself clinging fruitlessly to Agathe, being torn from her arms and swept into a tidal wave that had deposited him on a distant and unfamiliar shore.

When he'd stumbled out of the cave, and into the sunlight, he'd immediately sought Maria out, but, understandably frightened and humiliated, she'd turned her back on his initial apology. John Whitehead's urgent summons further delayed matters. After the children were safely dispatched, he'd intended to lay it all out for Maria before asking her to lie with him, but then he'd taken the coward's way out, thinking she'd be more inclined toward sympathy once their intimacy was established. Afterward, he had promised himself he wouldn't take her to Paris without clarifying things, but then Leo's visit had intervened, and her escapade in the train station, and the Germans on his tail– he cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, Maria. Fraulein. We were speaking of your life after Nonnberg, and I turned the conversation toward myself."

"It's all right. Can I ask you a question, Captain?"

"Hm?"

"What was she like?"

Georg squirmed uncomfortably at the question, but he could hardly pretend he missed her meaning.

"Agathe? Well," he cleared his throat, "she was a little bit of a thing, and very delicate. Dainty. And very kind, a much kinder and patient person than I deserved. She loved music, although her tastes ran more to the romantic than mine. Agathe - she wasn't complicated, not really. She loved having babies, and running the household, and taking care of me, and that was it. She was always busy – whenever I picture her, it's with a baby in her lap and a bit of knitting in her hands. She loved to knit."

He fell silent, while Maria tried very hard not to draw comparisons, but did so anyway _. I am kind!,_ she thought to herself. _Although I am anything but patient. Or delicate or dainty. And I don't think I could run such a grand household. Although perhaps I could, if I tried. I like music! I don't knit. But I can make my own clothes!_

And then, _what am I thinking?_

"Maria," his voice was gentle. "I do not want to replace her. Just to learn how to live without her. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"I think so, yes, Captain."

"Then good night, Fraulein."

 _ **When, exactly, did it happen? It was impossible to know.**_

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**


	18. Chapter 18: Ten Days, Part Two

**TEN DAYS, Part Two**

 _ **They were in the forest for ten days.**_

 _ **When, exactly, did it happen? It was impossible to know.**_

 _ **There was no single moment of truth. It happened gradually, the way spring changes to summer, or day turns to night, or a boy becomes a man. It happened nearly imperceptibly, like the blink of an eye, a single breath, the beat of a heart.**_

 **THREE**

There was reason to celebrate their progress when they reached the abandoned railroad track – a sign, according to the map, that they would shortly be able to turn inland. They only needed to cross an old trestle bridge, rusty from age and disuse, that spanned a narrow ravine.

Knapsack on one shoulder, Georg bounded across first, in long, energetic strides. He'd moved a good fifty meters further before realizing that he'd lost his companion. Turning back, he saw her, still standing on the far edge of the railroad bridge, staring down into the ravine; as he drew closer, he saw that she had turned white under her freckles.

"Fraulein Maria?"

She was silent.

"Fraulein? What's wrong?"

"This bridge. I can't cross it."

"What do you mean, you can't?"

"I _can't._ I'm afraid of heights."

He had to bite back a laugh.

"You grew up in the mountains! How could you be afraid of heights?"

"Mountains are sturdy. They stay fixed under your feet. This," even from across the ravine, he could see her shudder, "this swings about, and there's nothing but air underneath. Isn't there another way we can go?"

To humor her, Georg pulled the map from the knapsack and pretended to consult it.

"No, there isn't. This ravine runs all the way to the sea in this direction, and far uphill in that. I can assure you, the bridge is perfectly sturdy. Why, I weigh half again as much as you, and I had no trouble. It just shifts with the breeze a bit, is all."

"Can't you come and get me?"

He couldn't bring himself to tell her what he was thinking: the bridge had been stable enough under his feet, and it was surely safe for her, being lighter, but the two of them together? He wasn't so sure.

"Come on, Fraulein. You can do it," he said encouragingly, only to be met with a despairing shake of the head.

A sudden wind gust juddered the bridge, and Maria backed nervously away from the ravine's edge.

Georg pondered the young woman standing across from him. It wasn't that he didn't know how to get her across the bridge, because he did: if he commanded her to look at him, trapped her eyes with his and ordered her to do it, she would _dance_ across the damned ravine. Women always did anything he ordered them to do in this fashion, and having had her in his bed, he knew she would be no exception.

Except that for three days, he had been making a heroic effort – one that strained the limits of his self-control - to keep his distance from her, to put a damper on the fire he had so irresponsibly ignited between them, trying to sort out his feelings for her before doing any more damage. How could he presume on that connection now? Perhaps a different approach was called for, and while he gave that matter some thought, it would give her a chance to calm down.

It occurred to him suddenly that at this point, he probably knew her better, and bore more responsibility for her happiness and well-being, than anyone else on earth. Had she not been chased by her Reverend Mother into this marriage of convenience, she'd have no family at all. And so he took her measure, reviewing what he knew of her: on the one hand, her fierce desire for independence in thought and deed, on the other hand, her need for reassurance when her confidence wavered.

"Fraulein Maria. Do you trust me?"

She glanced at his face, down into the ravine, and back at his face.

"I suppose I do, Captain, seeing as how I followed you into the middle of nowhere, but that doesn't mean I-"

He took a deep breath, and took his own first step onto uncertain ground.

"Then I ask you to please come over here."

"I told you. I can't. I'm sorry, but-"

"Please, Maria. It's very important, you see."

She wrinkled her nose.

"Why?"

"Because," he said simply, "I can't go on without you."

And just like that, her eyes never leaving his, she began to shuffle toward him. Slowly. Cautiously. At the midpoint, another breeze shivered the bridge, and she let out a little moan, but she kept moving. Slowly, so slowly.

When she was a few strides away, Georg extended his arm to her, and when at last, he grasped her soft hand in his, he felt its trembling pass through her body and into his, like a spark arcing between them.

"Brave girl," he told her, and he was proud of her, but he was proud of himself, too, for knowing her as well as he did, for being able to give her what she needed. Maria was so lovely at that moment, the way she danced about, giddy with joy and relief, and he wanted to pull her close, to feel her wild hair against his face. To tell her what was in this heart. He'd meant to last night, before getting sidetracked by all that talk of tidal waves.

"Did you see me? I can't believe I _did_ that!" she bubbled, spreading her arms wide, spinning in a wide, euphoric circle, and then, before he knew it, she had thrown herself at him and twined her arms around his neck. Still laughing, she proclaimed, "I don't know whether to kiss you or throttle you, Captain!"

To feel her body pressed against his, after struggling so mightily to keep his distance! Georg was nearly brought to his knees by a wave of lust that sent the blood rushing to his groin and left him speechless. Unnerved, he could only manage to stagger backward and emit a pitiful little groan.

Before he could recover his composure, the smile slid from her face, and the sparkle faded from her eyes. Without another word, Maria yanked her arms from his neck and stomped off into the woods.

He ought to have kissed her, at least. Why hadn't he kissed her? Georg knew why, of course: one kiss would not be enough. It would _never_ be enough. Maria was like a puzzle he was never going to tire of solving. Sighing, he picked up the knapsack and followed her. They'd sort it out when they stopped for the night.

Now that they were away from the coast, he had been looking forward to the comfort of a fire and a lantern's light, but it hardly seemed like a night for celebration. They made camp in stony silence, sharing out their rapidly dwindling store of food before curling up a safe distance from one another in the darkness. The icy chill of her anger was palpable, even though he suspected the hurt and confusion that lay beneath. He wondered what topic might soothe and comfort her.

"Fraulein Maria, I was thinking, and I was wondering-"

"What is it this time, Captain?" she said flatly.

"You never really told us much about your family."

"Are you joking?"

"Why would I be joking?"

"Oh, never mind," she heaved an exasperated sigh. "I've already told you everything there is to know. My father died when I was a baby, so I don't remember him. My mother died when I was nine. That's all there is to it," she said curtly.

"Just like Louisa," Georg observed. "She also was nine when her mother died."

There was a pause before Maria let out a reluctant chuckle.

"You have no idea how many times I've had to remind myself of that," she said wryly. "Those _are_ difficult years for a girl to be motherless." Now, her voice softened. "My mother, she was everything to me. She loved me unconditionally, even though I was not a very good little girl,"

"Why does that not surprise me?"

"-and I was not very pretty, either, with freckles and long braids, all elbows and knees . But no one has ever loved me that way since."

She sighed again, a sigh that broke his heart.

"Maria-" he began, but it was as though she had forgotten he was there.

"You know," she said dreamily, "I never thought of it before, but my parents – I believe they were a love match. Not at all like my aunt and uncle! Maybe that's why I wanted to be one of the sisters. God loves us without limits. Maybe I wanted to be part of a family again, one with that kind of love. Maybe if my parents had lived, I'd have thought about marriage differently."

"Hm," Georg hummed his agreement, and waited expectantly for their conversation to continue. When she remained silent, he took a deep breath and sent the words out into the night:

"Fraulein? The night we left the hotel, you said that I – that is to say that – well, you remember what you said, don't you? Because I'm starting to think that perhaps-"

All around them, a gentle breeze rustled in the trees, and he strained to hear her reply, but he could only make out the quiet, even sound of her breathing. His little governess had fallen asleep, gone to dream of the kind of love that could last forever.

 _ **When, exactly, did it happen? It was impossible to know.**_

 **FOUR**

Now that they had turned inland, the immediate threat of a German pursuit seemed to have eased, but the Captain was still quite tense and on edge. When Maria questioned him, he said something vague about how the journey taking longer than expected, and the terrain was getting no easier. But she thought there might be more on his mind; was he worried about the children, perhaps?

The Captain led the way as they carved a path through the undergrowth, occasionally stopping to looking upward and gauge their position, or downward to check the map, while Maria followed behind.

Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks, so abruptly that she crashed into him.

"Pardon me, Captain-"

"Shh!"

"What the-"

"Fraulein," he said quietly, but with an undertone that made her uneasy, "I want you to take a dozen steps backward. Away from me. Slowly, now. No sudden movements."

"What is it?" Maria said, her heart climbing into her throat.

"Snake."

"A snake?"

"Go. Once you're safe, I'll try to-"

"Hold on, Captain."

Maria peered cautiously around his bulk, and then crept out in front of him.

"Fraulein Maria! What are you doing? For God's sake, be careful!"

Maria bent down to pick up a convenient switch and poked inquisitively at the snake, which lifted its head, blinked sleepily, and went still again.

"Why, that's just a common wood snake, Captain. It's about all you'd expect to find this far north."

His face was curiously pale.

"You're not afraid of a _snake_ , Captain, are you?"

"Once, in India, I watched a poisonous snake devour a kitten." he said defensively. "Whole."

"Well, this isn't India. And you are supposedly one of the bravest men in Europe! Haven't you got a medal in there somewhere?" she gestured at the knapsack.

"They don't have snakes at sea."

Maria did her best to swallow her laughter, and they continued on through the forest. But something about the snake incident reassured her and lifted her mood. Although she was still perplexed by his behavior, it was a reminder that her Captain was only human. Humans were flawed, and loving them took patience and tolerance.

That night, there was very little left to eat, but now that they were away from the coast, they were able to enjoy a small campfire. They curled up on opposite sides of it, savoring the warmth against the night's chill, talking of anything except their empty stomachs.

"I'm sorry I laughed at you about the snake, Captain. And after you were so kind to me about crossing the bridge."

"About the snake - it's meant to be a secret, you understand," he grumbled.

Maria's tactical skills had been sharpened by months of acquaintance with her Captain. "I'll do you the favor of keeping it a secret if you do me a favor in return," she offered magnanimously, and then, having exposed his weakness, she proceeded to ambush him.

"What I want in return, Captain, is for you to keep your promise. You were going to explain to me about those women, the ones you went to bed with even though you didn't love them, even though your wife-"

"Fraulein Maria," he groaned. "You are nothing if not persistent!"

"You _promised_!"

"All right, but I'm afraid there really isn't that much to explain. No dark secrets. I always liked women. _Loved_ them. Loved bedding them. I needed it, the way most people need air to breathe. Before I was married? I traveled all over the world, to places where people have very different attitudes toward these things than we do in Europe. And before you say anything, I never took anyone's innocence. I was a complete gentleman. Just not by the standards we have in Austria."

"And then?"

"I met Agathe. I wanted her more than I'd ever wanted anything! But she had been very gently bred. It was six months before they would let me escort her to the opera even _with_ a chaperone! They weren't even going to leave her alone with a man until she was wearing his engagement ring," he grumbled. "But the truth was, I was happy just to be in her company, in any circumstances at all. I was utterly besotted with her. And I was very happy to be –"

"Trapped?" Maria smiled. She was enjoying this version of the Captain, so unrecognizably young and eager.

"Exactly. At first, things – well, it didn't come naturally to her. It took a while, and then I was away so much, and there was always a new baby, but still, we were very happy together."

He fell silent, so that the only sound was the hiss and pop of the campfire.

"After she died, well, the bottom fell out. The house was in chaos, and I was drinking entirely too much. After six months or so, I was desperate enough to write to my mother in law and ask her to help. She came and took over the household and off I went to Rome, to be alone, where I could grieve. While I was there, I met a woman. A widow, like myself, and – well, we were able to find some comfort together. It was a distraction, at least for a little while, a chance to forget what I'd lost."

"After that, I began to see them all around me. Women. Widows without a man to look after them. Married women, who had been brought up like Agathe, whose husbands had given them the required child or two, and were now taking their pleasure with mistresses. These women – there was no man to show them tenderness and affection, or what things can be like between two people when they- It was very nice," he finished simply.

" _Nice?"_ Maria blinked.

"Yes. It anchored me, reminded me I was still alive. And – I know this sounds strange – gave me a sense of purpose. I didn't think Agathe would have minded. She knew what I was like, what I needed. And what I had with her – it went a great deal beyond – I know it's hard to understand."

"It's not hard to understand at all. You were lonely! _You_ were the one in need of some affection, the kind that mattered to you."

"No, no, it wasn't that at all. It had nothing to do with any feelings. People have certain needs, you see, that was all."

Maria couldn't hold back a little skeptical sound.

"I realize it must not make any sense to you, Fraulein. But until -ehrm – the other night, I hadn't been with a woman in two years."

"Did Baroness Schrader make you stop?"

"Elsa?" he laughed. "No, I stopped before I met her. Word was getting around about me, and – ehrm-"

"I imagine you were in great demand," she said drily.

"Something like that. It was happening far too often that they would develop feelings for me, feelings I couldn't return. And before you ask, no, it's not the same thing at all, what happened with you. I didn't want to believe it, but this was different. I don't understand it myself, and I certainly don't expect you to."

"Stop telling me that!" Maria said sharply.

"What?"

"That I can't understand. Of course I do! I mean, I know I haven't got a lot of experience, but I've got enough to know that going to bed with someone makes you feel close to them. For some people," she said slyly, "it might be the _only_ way."

He didn't take the bait, or maybe he didn't notice it.

"O-ho! Spoken like a sophisticated woman of the world, one who's seen it all!"

"Don't laugh at me."

"I'm sorry," he said hastily. "But you are still quite innocent, Fraulein. For all your worldly airs, it would be pitiably easy for me to shock you if I wanted to."

"Go ahead and try," Maria countered, stung by how, after everything they'd done in his bed, he could still consider her an innocent.

"All right, then. What do you know about Max?"

"You sent him off to Shanghai, to keep him safe from the Nazis."

"Do you know why he was unsafe?"

"You said he was Jewish."

"Max is no more Jewish than I am. What he is, is-" he hesitated, "he likes men."

"What's wrong with liking men?"

"In bed, Fraulein."

"Oh!" she fumbled. "I had no idea! I mean, I do know that – but why Shanghai?"

"They take everyone else's sinners there, or so I'm told."

Maria took a moment through page through her memories of Herr Detweiler, who had always been so kind to her, despite his friendship with Baroness Schrader.

"I'm not shocked, though, Captain. They have that in the Bible, you know."

"Hm. All right. Let me try again. Do you remember when I told you about my rescuing Leo, how I made him sing to distract himself while I pried him free?"

"Yes. It was a romantic old sea chantey, if I recall. About a woman who met a man."

" _Romantic?"_ he snorted. "You could call it that. She met _two_ men, as it happens."

"And she had to choose between them?"

"Not exactly, no."

"Why not? Did one of them die?"

He made an odd sound, one Maria could tell was born out of the attempt not to laugh at her.

"Only in a matter of speaking. She kept them both, you see."

"Both?"

"M-hm."

"But you said it had a happy ending!"

"I imagine it was _very_ happy, don't you?" and now he did roar with laughter.

"Oh!" She had to think about that one. " _You_ didn't ever – I mean _, did_ you?"

"You know me better than that, Fraulein. I don't even share my dessert."

Now it was Maria's turn to laugh.

"Good night, Fraulein Maria."

"Good night, Captain."

From her side of the flickering campfire, Maria peered over at her Captain, who was lying on his back, staring up at the night sky. After four days on the run, unshaven and unwashed, he somehow was more appealing than ever. And all that banter about people going to bed with each other had left her restless and aching for his touch. She wanted so much to be close to him, wanted his weight on her, wanted his hands and his mouth and the side of him that she had only glimpsed in their single night together.

Only a few days ago, she had accepted that lovemaking was the only way he was ever going to be able to express his feelings for her. Now, instead, he was showing her a side of him she hadn't anticipated, and she was torn between savoring his hard-won confidences, and feeling uneasy that he might have lost interest in what she had been so ready to give him, the kind of connection she knew meant the most to him.

Burrowing her cheek against the soft patch of moss where she lay, Maria reminded herself of the vow she'd made the night they'd begun their journey. Having spoken her piece, whatever happened next would have to be up to him.

 _ **When, exactly, did it happen? It was impossible to know.**_

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 **I don't own TSOM or anything about it. The next chapter will take me a little longer but it will be worth the wait.**


	19. Chapter 19: Ten Days Part Three

**Chapter 19: TEN DAYS Part Three**

 _ **When, exactly, did it happen? It was impossible to know.**_

 _ **There was no single moment of truth. It happened gradually, the way spring changes to summer, or day turns to night, or a boy becomes a man. It happened nearly imperceptibly, like the blink of an eye, a single breath, the beat of a heart.**_

 **FIVE**

The next morning, they raided a local farmer's neatly organized storehouse, leaving behind some coins to pay for the stolen apples, cheese and sausages. It was a relief to have replenished their supplies, and also an occasion for them to share a laugh at the very idea of a decorated naval hero and a former postulant conspiring to commit a mild form of larceny.

Still, the Captain remained concerned about their progress. "I can't make sense of this map," he complained to Maria. "It was supposed to take a week for us to get over the border to France, and by the looks of things, we're nowhere close. And the longer it takes, the more likely the Germans will catch up to us."

As he'd promised, the terrain did become easier to navigate, now that they were inland. By late on the fifth day, mountain forests gave way to gentle foothills, and they crossed through pastoral valleys. Fields and farms had been stripped bare by the recent harvest, leaving behind the occasional temporary hut where the harvest workers had stopped to rest. Mindful of their precarious situation, they tried as much as possible to avoid the country lanes where an occasional truck or horse-drawn wagon could be seen.

Away from the coast, even the weak late-autumn sun was enough to turn the air warm and humid. Her face heated with exertion, Maria stopped to tie her jacket around her waist and wipe the sweat from her forehead. That was when she spotted the little pond, just off to the right. It lay nestled in a grove of birches, deep blue and nearly still, except for the few bubbles where it was apparently fed by an underground spring. It looked and even sounded refreshing.

"Oh, Captain, look! Can't we stop for a dip, just for a few minutes?"

"I don't know," he said, squinting at the sky. "I don't like those clouds over there. We ought to push on and find some shelter. Once the sun goes down, you'll cool off quickly enough."

"Oh, _please_ ," Maria begged. "I haven't had a bath in days!"

"All right, then, but be quick about it. I'll wait just over there."

As soon as the Captain had seated himself against a tree-trunk and begun to study the map, Maria sprinted to the pond, stripping off her dreadful high-waisted Nonnberg dress, worn shoes and a last few bits of clothing before stumble-sliding down the slippery bank into the cool water. It was complete and utter bliss.

"When I'm done, you really ought to take a turn," she called to him.

"I'll pass," he grunted, and she wondered if he was also thinking of the time she had come upon him under the waterfall. Before his desire for her had gone missing.

"Captain?"

"What is it, Fraulein?"

"Do you think you could come over here and give me a hand? The bank was awfully steep, and slippery, and I'm afraid it was easier getting in here than it's going to be getting out."

"Have you lost your mind?" he snapped.

"No, but the way you behave toward me, I'm beginning to think _you've_ lost _yours_ , Captain. You can't just leave me here, can you?"

Captain von Trapp came to stand at the edge of the pond, arms crossed against his chest, glowering at her. Maria had been submerged up to her chin, and as soon as she reached upward for his hand, he made a great show of looking away from her, back over his shoulder and off into the distance, even as he reached down to haul her from the water.

Maria would have been hurt, had she not been so irritated.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Captain. You've already seen me without my-"

He dropped her hand as though it had burst into flame.

"What's that you've got over there?" he said sharply.

Maria followed his gaze to where her discarded clothes lay, topped off by a telltale flash of scarlet.

"Oh, that? That's – well, they're my knickers."

"They're _red,_ " he said faintly.

"Y-yes. They're the ones you bought for me. I took them from the valise the night we left the hotel," Maria confessed. "I know you said only to take what was necessary, but I couldn't bear to leave such lovely things behind, and I just thought – it's not like they took up a lot of space or anything!" she said defensively.

He turned to face her again, fingers twitching at his sides. Unshaven, blue eyes glittering, he was the picture of fearful temptation. Anger chased across his face, mixed with something _else,_ something that flushed her skin with heat as his glance skated down her naked body and back up again.

"Is it only occasionally, Fraulein Maria, or are you _continually_ in search of new and different ways to torment me?"

Maria began to scramble into her clothes. She was furious. Furious at him, for his cold-hearted cruelty. Furious at herself, for letting him affect her so.

"You think _I'm_ the one tormenting _you_ , Captain? I mean, if you don't want me anymore, at least be man enough to say so!"

"Don't want you? Don't _want_ you?" he ran his hands through his hair, which only made him look more dangerously appealing. "Another trick like that and I'll have you on your back!" he said grimly.

"Is that your idea of a threat?" she said incredulously, and when he didn't answer, she stomped away from him, fuming, stopping only to throw one last barb over her shoulder.

"And another thing. Would you stop calling me Fraulein Maria? I am not your governess! Keep your distance from me if you must, but it's ridiculous, coming from the very same man I allowed to-"

"Maria."

Had he issued a typical imperious command, Maria would just have kept going, blindly, in what she hoped was the general direction of France. But the sound of her name on his lips, unadorned by any title, and his soft, deep tone, stopped her cold. When she turned, he had extended his hand to her, as though he meant to shake it.

"Truce?" he wheedled.

She heaved a sigh and began to retrace her steps.

"Truce, Captain."

As she slid her hand into his, it occurred to her that if she objected to being addressed as a governess, perhaps she ought to return the favor and call him by name. "I mean- ehrm-" Maria began, but she could tell he wasn't listening to her.

He wouldn't let go of her hand, either. A tremor ran down his throat before he lifted her hand to brush it with his lips. It was a curiously formal gesture for the setting, one that made her want to giggle. But the sound died in her mouth when he turned her hand over and pressed a kiss into her palm.

There was the prickle of his chin on her skin before he lifted his eyes to hers, just long enough for her to see the twinkle there and hear him chuckle, "don't _want_ you?" before he slid his mouth to the inside of her wrist, where she knew he would be able to feel her pulse thunder.

When he laid the flat of his tongue just _there,_ after five days of yearning for his touch, she couldn't hold back a low moan.

But a muffled boom in the distance distracted them both. When her eyes followed his to the horizon, she saw them too: thick black clouds, rolling toward them at an alarming rate. Maria was suddenly aware that the wind had set the nearby trees swaying, and the chirp of birds and buzz of insects had vanished.

"We'll have to run for it," he ordered, scooping the knapsack from the ground. "I think we passed one of those harvester's huts a little ways back."

As they sprinted for cover, the sky grew dark. The rain began, first as big, fat drops pattering lazily on the ground, and had just begun to intensify into sharp needles when the rough structure appeared ahead. A thatched-roof wooden hut, with a rough opening for a door, dirt-floored and unfurnished but for a pile of sleeping pallets in the corner. It would be shelter enough.

Once they were safely inside, a wave of shyness rolled over her, one she covered over with a burst of nervous chatter.

"Well!" Maria said brightly, "it's quite a bit of luck, finding shelter this way. It is a bit chilly in here, isn't it? Pity we won't be able to have a fire, but my clothes are barely damp. What about yours? And we've got plenty to eat, thank heaven. Shall we have our supper now?"

She might have babbled on for an hour if the Captain hadn't sent a jaunty grin her way, one that made her bones turn to water.

"Very well, _Maria_ ," he said pointedly, and then left her to her work.

Georg went to stand in the open doorway, whose overhanging roof barely protected him from the raging storm. By now, the little hut was an island in the middle of a tumultuous sea. He watched the rain and wind lash the trees that lined the fields and send every loose bit of the harvest's last gleanings whirling into the air. The wild weather was nothing, he thought, next to his savage hunger for Maria, an urge that had flickered to life by the pond and, he knew, could not be restrained much longer.

Five days. It had been five days, five days that felt more like a century. He was keyed-up and on edge, undeniably aroused by their encounter by the pond, but exhausted, too, physically and mentally, discouraged by their slow progress and tired of the struggle to keep his hands off of her. In fact, he could no longer remember why he'd stayed away from her for as long as he had.

Was Maria still bearing the burden of anger and humiliation she'd carried away from the hotel? He turned to watch her lay out their simple meal, trying to focus on the way her hands moved with graceful economy. The ghost of a smile curved her lips, and he wondered if she was thinking of that charged interlude by the pond. Had she really needed help in getting out of the water, or was it meant to be an invitation? There had been no missing her rosy cheeks or the sparkle in her eyes when she'd summoned him, and no missing the curve of her breasts just at the water's surface, either. The memory of her scampering away from the pond, naked, pink-skinned and damp, was beyond tantalizing. Although still so innocent, she knew perfectly well that he wanted her. Could it be-

She was charming. Enchanting. Utterly captivating, and not only on the outside. She was a tough one, his brave little governess, and if he hadn't known it that long-ago day when she'd lectured him by the lake, calling him to task for his failures as a father, he certainly knew it now. In five long, hard days of slogging through the woods, conquering her fears, sleeping on the ground and surviving on limited rations, she hadn't complained or whined even once. If she still wore a youthful coat of idealism, she had, in her short life, developed a certain wisdom as well.

Georg hadn't quite figured things out for himself. He still missed Agathe dreadfully, and he shrank from the possibility that it might do Maria further harm if he were truly honest with her on that count. But if he was going to approach her again, honor demanded he first try to explain what was in his heart. Surely, he could manage to muster a scrap of courage to do so. And, remembering how Maria had loved his nightly poetry recitations to his family, he knew just how to go about it.

 _With my heart as with a hand,_ he thought, tugging absently at his ear.

Outside, the storm raged on. Inside the hut, the last trace of daylight faded away. They ate their simple meal by lantern-light, and then, almost by habit, they dragged their pallets to opposite ends of the little hut. Before curling up at his end, Georg switched off the lantern: conversation came easier in the dark, he knew.

"Maria," he began, "Do you have a favorite poet?"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to know about my favorite poet? And for that matter, why are you asking me so many _questions_ lately _?_ It seems like every night, you have new questions for me. Why I entered the Abbey. About my parents."

"Well," Georg said carefully, "Being the person who was responsible for turning our temporary marriage into a permanent one, I'm just trying to get to know you better. Or differently. Weren't you the person who said that there are different ways for people to become close to one another?"

"Yes, but now I know more about _you_ as well, Captain. Enough to know that this is not how _you_ go about it."

"I've just been expanding my horizons," Georg laughed. "And while we're at it, if we're renegotiating terms, _you_ might call _me_ by my name."

"Well, whatever your name is, I wish you would stop it," she said with surprising sharpness.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said, you can _stop_. Stop trying to make up for it. Stop feeling guilty for having corrupted me. Because you sound like you think we made a mistake. Like you regret it."

"But Maria, that's not so! I told you, there is nothing to regret, nothing to be ashamed of. At least not on my part."

"Nor on mine. I'm not ashamed of what I did. What _we_ did. Maybe I'm not supposed to feel this way, but I'm not sorry, not one bit," she said, her voice low but fierce. "The truth is, I _liked_ it."

At that moment, Georg's well-intentioned plans for a sober discussion vanished, blown away into the stormy night. Maria had laid down the first card in a game, a dangerous and tempting game he found impossible to resist.

"And what, exactly, did you like about it?" he said, as lightly as he could, while he felt his body commence a steady throb of arousal.

"Ehrm-" she hesitated, and the moment stretched out between them in the dark, full of promise, while Georg wondered what modest and maidenly response she would manage to stammer out.

"Well," she said at last, "There's this little noise you make, just at the last, before you are lost. It's more like a whimper, really, and then you go very still, and-"

Georg found himself rendered speechless, nearly choking on shock, desire and perhaps the smallest bit of embarrassment.

"That little sound, coming from someone who is usually in control of things," she continued, "it's just very _affecting_. You know?" Her matter-of-fact tone smacked of an arithmetic lesson, which somehow made it even more provocative. Without waiting for him to comment, she added, "Now it's your turn."

With the little ability to think he had left, Georg pondered his tactical choices. He briefly considered taking a gentlemanly approach, emphasizing the great honor she'd done him by giving him her innocence, but he did not want to do anything to send her wild streak back into hiding.

"What I liked? Well," he said slowly, "to begin with, when I came into you, you felt like heaven around me. Soft and wet and hot and tight. So tight! Your turn, Maria."

"I liked your mouth on me. Everywhere," she shot back, as though the answer had been prancing on the tip of her tongue. "Your turn."

By now, Georg was as hard as stone. He swallowed back the first response that rose to his lips, which was really too obscene to be spoken aloud.

"I'd rather show you than tell you," he said instead.

The earthy crudeness of this exchange would have left the old Maria shocked and ashamed, but somewhere along the way, that girl had vanished, and his warm voice, all velvet and silk, made the new Maria ache with wanting. Heart slamming against her ribs, she considered his offer, and the promise shimmering behind his words. She had told herself the next step was his to take, and now he had issued an invitation. She could go to him, and he would have her. Was this the next step she'd hoped for? Another disappointment would be too much to bear. Better to take a cautious approach.

"If that's so, Captain, then why are you all the way over there?"

"Because _you're_ going to have to come to _me,_ Maria, darling. I've already taken far too much advantage of you."

This wouldn't do, not at all. The next step had to be his!

"I'm sorry, but _you're_ going to have to come over here, Captain."

"No. I need you to come to me."

"I'm sorry, but you've got to come to me."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Maria."

"I know you don't," she said desperately, "but you've got to!"

He was silent for so long that Maria felt a cold stab of disappointment. But then-

"Have it your way, darling."

He covered the short distance between them in a few steps, a predator's pounce, really, and then he was curled around her back, his hot breath tickling her ear, unashamed of his obvious arousal. Excitement skittered across her skin. She had longed for his touch for so long, she could hardly believe it was finally happening.

After that, things happened fast. His mouth teased a spot on her neck, nipping and sucking, stinging and smoothing, in a way that made an astonished and mystified Maria somehow want to bite him back. But he wouldn't let her turn to face him, not yet. With one hand, he gripped her firmly by the hip, while the other drifted up her leg and under her dress, around the curve of her waist and across her belly. There was the pressure of his hand between her thighs, and when his fingers found the lacy knickers, he gathered the fabric in his hand and tugged them against her body, hard, so that the rub of rough lace sent ripples of pleasure all over her body.

"Oh, please," she cried, and he gave a satisfied little chuckle. In the next moment, she felt the gentle invasion of a long finger.

"You are splendid. So sweet," he murmured. "Just feel how badly you want me! I _have_ been burning for you, you know. Ever since our night together. "

His tone – warm with wonder and appreciation - inspired a little burst of courage.

"You said," Maria felt her voice shake with embarrassment and anticipation, "you said that when we were together again, I could – ehrm – be in charge."

"When it comes to who's in charge, Maria, may I remind you that _you_ demanded my presence here, and _I_ submitted to your demand. So I'm afraid you've had your turn to take charge, and now," his thumb fluttered idly against a tender place made of fire, "it's _my_ turn."

When he found another, inner soft spot, the blissful sensation was so exquisite, so intense, that she jerked away from him.

"Just wait," he said, drawing away from her to rise onto his knees. "I'm going to give you so much pleasure you'll want to die from it."

Outside the hut, the wind howled and lightning forked the sky. Georg got only a glimpse of her face, flushed and wide-eyed, before darkness returned.

"Hold on."

"What is it now?" she whimpered. "You're not going to change your mind again, are you?"

"No," he growled, reaching to switch on the lantern. "I just need to be able to watch you come apart."

When Georg lowered himself on top of her, she dug her fingers into his arms as though she was afraid he would disappear. That needful gesture sparked a last, fleeting qualm: he had meant to - hadn't he had meant to tell her –

"Maria-" he choked, "listen, before we – I think -"

"No more thinking," she said firmly, and sealed her mouth to his. She kissed him with clumsy but surprising ferocity until she dragged her mouth from his and gasped,

"Just do it, will you? _Please._ I need you to. I can't bear it anymore. _"_

Georg had planned to take his time with her, but once again, his good intentions flew out into the night, vanquished by her pleas, leaving behind only bottomless lust. That they were both still dressed didn't matter. Whatever he had anticipated by way of preliminaries, whatever attention he had hoped to pay to her lush mouth, her soft skin and lovely breasts, didn't matter either. He was so desperate, nearly overwhelmed by desire, that his hands shook with the force of it.

Heart racing and fingers trembling, he fumbled at the opening to his trousers, pushed her lacy knickers aside, and pressed himself, hard, straight into her luscious warmth.

With the last vestiges of self-control, Georg managed to grit out two syllables: "all right?"

"Oh, _yes,"_ she gasped, "I feel so full of you," words that sent hot blood surging through his veins. He immediately set a frenzied pace, knowing that even if he hurt or frightened her, the shameful truth was that he probably could not have restrained himself. But Maria had taken him into her body readily, flowing around him like silk, lifting up again and again as though she couldn't get close enough to him. Her hands scrabbled for purchase against his back, fingertips scraping and clawing. He heard himself grunting with effort, going harder and deeper with each stroke.

She thrashed against him with joyful abandon, as he drove them both onward, together, feeling that he could go on this way forever. When she cried out, when she shuddered and tightened around him, Georg did not relent until he had pushed her through her climax, watching the pleasure chase across her face until her mouth went slack and her eyes fluttered closed.

And then he began again. He was like an untamed animal now, a pagan, rutting god.

"I can't," she mumbled, tossing her golden-curled head from side to side.

"You can. And you will," his words came on ragged gasps. "Just hold on to me. Maria. Hold on tight. Ready?"

With a shuddering moan, she gave herself up to him, burying her face in his neck and wrapping him in her arms and legs as he began to rock frantically against her.

His mind had gone blank, all knowledge and sensation focused on the place where their bodies had melted together, fused by wet heat. The fire swelled and rose all around them, an inferno both tempting and terrifying. At the edge of his consciousness, Georg was dimly aware of a sound: a sound that was no longer the sweet cry of an angel, not anymore, but a woman's groan, raw with passion.

Then the fire came crashing down around them, and consumed them both.

 _ **When, exactly, did it happen? It was impossible to know.**_

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 **This journey is taking forever! Isn't it? Don't worry I WILL finish this story; I have it all figured out, but the steamy bits take a long time to write. Thanks lemacd for your help. Don't own, all for love.**


	20. Chapter 20: Ten Days, Part Four

**Chapter 20: Ten Days, Part Four**

 _ **They were in the forest for ten days.**_

 _ **When, exactly, did it happen? It was impossible to know.**_

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Gradually, the world came back into focus. Outside, the pounding storm raged on, while inside, he felt Maria's body, warm and supple, shift uncomfortably under his. When Georg pulled away from her, he could see how their rough clothing, bunched between them in his haste to take her, had chafed at her soft skin.

"Hold on," he murmured, scrambling out of his clothes before stripping her of her dress and the notorious red knickers.

"No more," she moaned softly, "Please. I can't."

"Neither can I," he smiled, "not yet, anyway. But we ought to lie together properly." He took her in his arms and clasped her to him, skin to skin, and had very nearly fallen asleep when she caught his attention with a whisper.

"Cap – I mean-"

"M-hm?"

"I want to know if-"

"In the morning, darling," he said drowsily.

"No, no, now. If I wait till the morning, you won't want to talk about it."

"Then go ahead, Maria, if you must."

Wide awake now, he steeled himself for her question.

"Is it always – I mean, with those other women. Was it always like that?"

Relief washed over him. This, at least, he could give her. Even if for the rest of it, he couldn't quite-

"No," he said honestly. "It was _never_ like this, Maria."

Maria held her breath, waiting for him to append a qualification, or a proviso of some sort, but none came, only the deep, even rumble of his breath in his chest as he descended into a sound sleep. She lay awake for quite some time, exultant, rejoicing in the way he lay, relaxed and trusting, against her.

He was _hers!_

Hers, in a way that he hadn't been with any of the others. Hers, at least in the only way that could ever mean anything to him. He had told her many times what he needed, and tonight, he had come to her to claim it. A little voice in the back of her mind piped up to ask if that was enough, but she turned away from it, because she loved him.

Maria was too restless, too elated, and too aware of his solid body next to her, to be able to relax into sleep. Instead, she turned the astonishing situation over and over again in her mind. Six months ago, she had been a postulant, promised to God, with no interest in the way of things between men and women. He had been an aloof and heartless tyrant on the verge of a loveless marriage.

Those two people had vanished into the past, and in their places were a man and a woman, stranded in precarious circumstances in the middle of nowhere, bound together in shocking intimacy. Stripped of the veneer of their lives in Austria, they lay curled together on a dirt floor, underfed, unwashed and sticky with grime and sweat and lust.

She had never been so happy in her life.

Tomorrow, they would resume their journey into France and on to Paris. The little voice broke in again, to ask what would happen _after_ Paris, but Maria told herself to ignore it and rest up for another day's trek. She leaned over, switched off the lantern, and willed herself to sleep, but it was no use. Instead, she lay in the dark, listening to the sound of his heartbeat over the storm.

OOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Georg lingered warily at the edges of the sleep, hardly able to believe what was happening. For four long years, every day had begun the same way, with a sharp stab of realization that the love of his life was gone. Even as the months and years passed, and no matter how hardened he'd been to the reality of her loss when he retired the night before, the dawning of each new day brought a fresh surge of pain, as though Agathe had just now left him.

 _This_ morning, though, he seemed to have awakened only to feelings of peaceful contentment. As though poking at a sore tooth with his tongue, Georg probed his memories of Agathe and waited for the wave of grief to overtake him, but to his wistful surprise, he found mostly comfort.

A thin gray light barely filtered into the hut, and it was still raining, a hard, drenching rain. They wouldn't be going anywhere today, that was certain. Through half-open eyes, he spied Maria, dressed in his cast-off shirt. She was perched in the open doorway like a little sprite, arms wrapped around her knees, watching the storm.

When he rose and went to sit next to her, her head dropped to his shoulder and they sat in companionable silence for a little while, peering through the silver curtain of rain that tumbled off the roof, and out into the stormy morning beyond. Suddenly, he was as tongue tied as a schoolboy.

"Maria," he cleared his throat, "are you – ehrm – that is – well, is everything all right?"

"Oh, _yes_ ," she looked up at him with an incandescent smile. "It is now."

"Are you sure?"

"M-hm." She added with a laugh, "I can hardly believe it! To think that I almost went back to Austria instead of coming with you!"

"I knew you had a temper," he chuckled, "but I don't think I've ever seen you as angry as you were that morning in the hotel, when you left me. Not that I didn't deserve it."

"I _was_ angry. About why you wouldn't – why you couldn't - well, you know."

"Hm. I suppose you understand it better now. How it is with me, I mean."

"I – I think I do. I mean, I _know_ I do."

"Well, it's all settled then," he said expansively.

It _was_ a relief to have gotten it all straightened out. Maria's smile, her voice, everything about her was different somehow, wide open and relaxed, and that made Georg relax too. Last night's urgency had been replaced by the rich luxury of time. They'd be stranded here for hours, so there would be plenty of time to talk, if they were so inclined.

For example, his sense of honor dictated that they confront, together, the consequences of the decision he'd made last night, not to pull out of her at the very last, critical moment. Another man might tell himself that, having already made that mistake with her once, it made no difference, but that, of course, was nonsense. Another man might try to make excuses about being swept away by passion, but Georg knew better: it had been a deliberate choice on his part, and furthermore, given another opportunity, he knew perfectly well he was going to do the same thing again. Even if he didn't quite know why.

Georg cast about in his mind for a topic that would preserve the peaceful mood between them. Suddenly, he remembered that after their disastrous night in the cave, Maria had complained that he had not kissed her properly. How could it be that in last night's chaos, he'd repeated that mistake? Well, today, there would be time for endless kissing, if that were her desire, time to make up for all the months during which they had never kissed at all. Turning toward her, he tucked a finger beneath her chin, drew her face to his and kissed her slowly, tenderly, until she melted into him and responded in full measure.

Soon enough, sweet kisses grew passionate, leaving him dizzy and breathless and aching with desire.

Soon enough, he swept the shirt from her shoulders so that his mouth could ravish her breasts.

Soon enough, he laid her out on her back, and commenced to kiss every square inch of her body, not relenting until it was impossible to hear the storm over her screams.

And when he couldn't possibly wait even a moment longer, he dragged his mouth up her body until it crashed into hers with bruising force. He gathered her wrists overhead in one hand, making it impossible for her to move, forcing her to absorb every last bit of pleasure. When he came into her hot and deep, and unleashed himself on her, it wasn't very long before the tremors shook them both, before the fiery rush poured through him and swept them both away.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

It continued to rain steadily, throughout the rest of the day and well into the night, and what happened between them during those hours was as raw and untamed as the storm that raged on around them. Georg took his time with her, especially now that she had apparently forgiven him and was holding nothing back.

There was time for him to teach her to call him by name, rather than as 'Captain,' a habit he broke her of by making her address him aloud in the most extreme of circumstances, rewarding her when she got it right, and chastising her in delicious ways when she got it wrong.

There was time for him to teach her all six verses of Leo's lewd sea chantey.

And there was time for this:

"Georg! What are you _doing?_ "

"Expanding your horizons, darling."

"I'm not sure I _want_ them expanded that – _oh!_ – that way."

"How would you know? You need to give any new experience a chance. I'll make you a deal. I'll count to ten, while I do as I please. At ten, if you still want me to stop, I'll stop."

"Ehrm – wait a second, Georg! What about count of five and I do the counting?"

"You can do the counting, but count of seven," Georg said firmly. "Whenever you're ready."

"One," she called out, and then,

"T-Two."

There was a long silence.

"Maria?"

"Oh! Three!"

Another silence.

"Maria?"

" _Oh_ – f-five?"

"What happened to four, Maria?"

…

"Maria?"

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The next morning, all evidence of the storm had vanished. The first golden spears of light found their way into the hut, accompanied by the chirp of birds and a soft, fresh breeze that seemed to blow away the sounds and scents of their shared passion.

While Georg slept on soundly, Maria eased herself out of his arms, wincing in the aftermath of hours of vigorous, if also very pleasurable, pursuits. For a man twice her age, who'd been living pampered in luxury, Georg was quite _robust_. A few vivid impressions in particular curved her lips in a smile, but by the time she'd hurried into her clothes and ventured out of the hut, her bright spirits began to fade.

Maria's heart and mind were crowded with memories she would cherish the rest of her life, and with the certain and joyful knowledge that he needed her. He needed her _desperately,_ even she could see that. Now that they had taken possession of each other, nothing would ever be the same between them. Today, they would resume their journey to Paris. Paris, where, she reminded herself, he had nearly begged her to accompany him.

But still. Alone with her thoughts for the first time in hours, and with no wicked distractions, it was impossible not to wonder about what lay on the _other_ side of Paris. And for that little voice in her head to inquire, politely, if someone needing her was the same as loving her. What was it he had told her, that morning in the hotel? Something about not being able to make any promises, or to love her the way she deserved. Maria wasn't sure what she deserved, but, she told herself, she was quite certain that he _was_ loving her, in the only way he knew how.

"Maria?"

She heard him call to her, and as though she had no choice in the matter, her feet carried her back into the hut, where Georg stood, yawning widely, arms stretched over his head. The sight of him made her heart flutter like a caged bird, but when his eyes met hers, they were warm with concern.

"What is it, darling?"

"Nothing!" she said with a cheerful shake of her head. "It's a beautiful morning. We ought to be on our way, hadn't we?"

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The next few days piled up like bright beads on a string: crisp autumn days where they tramped hand-in-hand through the countryside, and chilly nights where they took comfort in each other's arms. Although their progress remained slow, and the risk of German pursuit still remained, Georg found that the sense of urgency behind their journey had somehow abated. Leo's map, once his constant companion, was consulted only once or twice daily.

For the first time since leaving the hotel, they talked of the children, with Georg sharing long-ago memories of their younger years, and unraveling for her – and for himself, truth to be told - the mystery of how they'd ended up with whistles and uniforms. He normally found this kind of confiding disclosure uncomfortable, but somehow, the words came easily to him as they rambled through the woods.

But it was the nights, especially, when they lay wrapped around each other in a campfire's soft glow, that wove a tight bond between them. With each passing night, Georg felt the surge of emotion when they joined together grow stronger, clearer and more powerful.

Georg quickly came to accept that when it came to his bride, his famous self-control had vanished for good, and that his hunger for her would never be slaked. What he _was_ still struggling to understand was how a postulant from Nonnberg Abbey had so quickly became an eager, almost voracious, lover. It was a delightful - but somewhat unnerving - circumstance. Maria was wildly innocent in so many ways, but she mastered everything he showed her with whole-hearted enthusiasm that left him feeling weak and stupid. As though, he thought wryly, _she_ had penetrated _him_ , rather than the other way around.

About the fact that he never pulled out of her, he preferred not to think at all. He didn't need to, not really. Her shining eyes and bright smile were all the reassurance that he needed.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The tenth day dawned bone-chilling and damp.

"We can't possibly be that far from the border," he shook his head and tucked the map into the knapsack. "And the weather's only going to get worse. We're going to try something else today. I think it's worth the small risk of discovery."

It was late morning, and they were crouched in the underbrush by the side of the road, just outside a small town, watching trucks and horse-drawn wagons return from the last market day of the season.

"That one," Georg announced suddenly. "Ready?" and with no further explanation, he flung the knapsack over his shoulder, grabbed her hand and pulled her into a sprint toward the final wagon in the procession. They hoisted themselves into the back, empty except for some scattered straw.

"But Georg!" she gestured frantically. "The driver-"

Georg laid a finger to her lips.

"The fellow's nearly asleep up there," he said quietly. "Or drunk, more likely. I'm guessing that his horses know their way home without any direction from him. We'll be fine if we keep our voices down."

Maria peeked over the side of the wagon, watching the trees and fields flash by at what seemed, after ten days on foot, like a very rapid pace. She shivered, as a chilly breeze found its way under her jacket. Or maybe it was the thought of how much more quickly they were moving now, the distance shrinking by the minute between them and Paris. And whatever was to come _after._

"Poor darling," Georg winked, beckoning her closer, "come here and let's see if we can get you warm."

Maria glanced anxiously toward the driver, who sat slumped sideways in his seat, oblivious to the horses' gentle plodding

"Come _here,_ Maria," he gave an exasperated sigh. "I told you, you needn't worry about him. Why must you always fight me when I know what you need?"

Even as she resented his imperious directive, Maria found herself obeying, scrambling awkwardly into his lap. His solid warmth was delicious.

"I know a little bit about what _you_ need, too, you know," she said crossly.

"You do, do you? And what, exactly, is that?"

"Well, for one thing, you need to control me. Why, you've been ordering me around since the moment you met me!"

He raised an eyebrow.

"That, Fraulein, is only because you need a firm hand."

"I _hate_ when you say that," she burst out, "In case you hadn't noticed, I am not a child!" But when she tried to wriggle off of his lap, his arm held her in place like an iron bar.

"O-ho, but when you _were_ a child, no one looked out for you, and you learned not to rely on anyone except yourself. And God, of course. That's why you were ready to lock yourself away in that Abbey, isn't it?"

While his one hand continued to hold her firmly in place, the other idly brushed her knee.

"And tell me, Maria," he continued, his voice low but rough, "has it so terrible, doing as I please?"

His words sent a prickle of arousal down her spine, even as she offered a last faint protest.

"N-no," she shrugged. "I mean yes. I mean-"

When she'd first known her Captain, Maria found his domineering behavior nearly intolerable. But in their more recent, treacherous circumstances, when it was apparent that he was doing enough worrying for both of them, she had to admit that it had also made her feel safe.

And as for what happened when they lay together, for every time that Georg took her with forceful urgency, there was another when he treated her with nearly unbearable tenderness. No, the truth was she _liked_ the rough and the gentle of it. Their most intimate moments gave Maria the reassurance she craved, silencing the little doubtful voice that still plagued her, revealing the depth of his ferocious need for her in the only way he could express it.

Now his fingers slid under her skirt and began to creep upward. When Maria gave an experimental wriggle, there was the shape of him, hard and demanding, through his trousers. She heard his breath turn ragged, felt his caresses grow more frantic. Smiling to herself at this reminder of their shared passion, she turned to press her face into his neck.

"No. Your mouth," he growled, "give me your mouth," and he took it just in time to capture her first helpless cries, as he found her center. Again and again, his knowing fingers sent blinding pulses of pleasure through her, until her mind dissolved and her body went limp with bliss.

Then there were only the gentle jostling rhythm of the wagon, the jingle of the horses' harnesses, the driver's soft snores. Secure in Georg's arms, with his lips brushing her forehead, at that moment, Maria could not possibly have wished for more than what he had to give her.

"You were right. That _was_ just what I needed," she sighed.

"Maria."

"Hm?"

"You like to joke about it, but what I must have from you, it's-"

"My complete and unquestioning obedience?" she smiled. At this particular moment, anyhow, she could enjoy the game.

"Freely given, yes," he said with surprising, and somewhat unnerving, gravity. "But not only that."

He anchored her head in his big hands, turning her to face him and smoothing the hair from her forehead, stroking his thumb across her swollen lips until she opened to him.

"There's something else, Maria."

The frightening look in his eyes, sharp and black, was so intense she was forced to look away.

"Don't look away from me, Maria. Look deeper, and perhaps you will see what I need."

Her fingers knew what to do before she could will it, brushing across his trousers, finding the buttons. He rose in her hand, thick and hard and hot.

"Don't worry," she murmured, "You don't have to say it. I _know_."

"Wait. Maria," he strangled, "What I-" But his eyes had gone blurry with desire.

Suddenly, the wagon jerked to a stop, and the driver let loose a loud string of curses.

" _Go_ ," Georg hissed, nearly shoving her away. _"Now."_

Maria leapt from the wagon and raced to hide behind a ramshackle chicken-coop, smothering her laughter at the sight of her Captain, stumbling toward her, knapsack in one hand and buttoning his trousers with the other.

"Bit of a close one," he grunted when he joined her, but his eyes sparkled with glee.

They watched the farmer unhitch the horses and send them with a slap toward the barn before he disappeared into a decrepit farmhouse.

After that, they tramped companionably through the forest for another several hours, Georg stopping occasionally to consult the map and peer at the sky, although the sun remained hidden behind iron-gray clouds.

"We'll find the border tomorrow, for sure. Or I hope so, anyway. But for tonight – it looks like rain, so let's find some shelter. _Quickly,_ " he added, and Maria knew from the gleam in his eyes that the weather was not the reason for his sense of urgency. Although they had not spoken of their escapade in the wagon, the air between them still crackled with intensity.

There was an hour left before nightfall when they found an empty barn which smelled strongly of its former inhabitants. They fell easily into their routine: Maria cut up apples and sausage, two things she swore she would not eat again for a year, at least, if they ever got out of this forest, while Georg did what he could to arrange some bedding.

"You never complain, do you?" he said admiringly. "But I can see it's been a strain on you. If we're lucky, it's just one more day, Maria. One more day to a comfortable bed, and a proper meal, and a hot bath."

Maria was suddenly and uncomfortably aware of herself: _still_ wearing that high-waisted girlish dress from Nonnberg, hair wild and tangled, five days since her dip in the pond. While Georg was more attractive than ever: his stubble had become a slightly unkempt beard, threaded with silver, his frame even leaner and more powerful.

Maria studied his face, looking for reassurance.

"Why do you stare at me that way?"

"A bath?" She bowed her head. "I suppose I _am_ a bit ripe."

"That is not what I meant, Maria, and you know it. We're both a bit ripe, come to that."

He sighed and went to gather her in his arms.

"You're lovely. Every single inch of you. But we're in a barn, for heaven's sake. For tonight, anyway," he buried his face in her neck and nipped gently at her shoulder, "we are just another pair of animals, aren't we?"

She didn't wait for him, lifting her dress over her head while he was hurrying out of his own clothes. But when she went to wind her arms around his neck, he turned her around and gently urged her to the ground.

"Georg!" she gasped, shocked to find herself on all-fours.

" _Animals,_ Maria," he purred.

He was behind her, reaching underneath until his fingers found her breasts and dragged against them, hard, sending sensation streaking across her skin. The rough brush of his thumbs on the tips of her breasts was unbearably arousing.

One hand remained, kneading her breast, while the other slid between her legs.

" _Ripe_ ," Georg murmured, his voice felt like liquid heat on her skin. "Whenever I touch you, you _are_ ripe here, like a perfect peach. You will always be ripe for me, won't you, darling?" He swept her hair off her neck and wrapped it around his fingers, tugging her gently downward. "Curl over your knees," he directed.

Then he wrapped himself around her and sank into her, deep, possessing her entirely. Time after time, with exquisite care, he sent her soaring toward the heavens, urging her upward and upward, before pulling her back, only to loft her even higher the next time. Without his hands and body to anchor her, Maria would surely have flown straight into the sun. The relentless push of his body continued until his harsh cry broke her open and she was flooded with his heat.

When he slumped over her, gasping for air, she could hear the thundering of his heart gradually slow, feel the sweat on their skin cool. Much as Maria craved their passion, she cherished these moments, too, when his feelings for her rose closest to the surface and his weight on her a reassuring comfort.

Without separating, they fell into a light slumber, until from close by came a skittering, shuffling sort of noise. When she opened her eyes, she was staring at something, not more than six inches from her nose: the toe of a boot, muddy and scuffed, half-covered by a torn trouser cuff, all of it connected to a man who stood towering over them. She squeezed her eyes closed in terror and humiliation as the man began to shout. She felt Georg rise and toss his shirt over her before replying to the man, his voice composed and confident.

She couldn't make much sense of what they were saying, of course. Maria was used to that after two months away from Austria, but there was something different this time, something she couldn't quite-.

The man was still shouting, and she heard Georg speak, heard "l'Autriche" and "Allemagne" and "Italie" and "femme" and "argent" and "echaper," and then the man was calmer now, asking questions. When she peeked through her lashes, Georg, still shamelessly naked, was smiling broadly, while the man enthusiastically shook his hand.

"Georg?" She lifted up on her elbows, taking care to remain huddled under his shirt.

"Maria, darling," his face broke into an elated grin. "Do you understand? We must have gotten ourselves across the border today. We _made_ it, darling! We're in France!"

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 _ **They were in the forest for ten days.**_

 _ **When, exactly, did it happen? It was impossible to know.**_

 _ **There was no single moment of truth. It happened gradually, the way spring changes to summer, or day turns to night, or a boy becomes a man. It happened nearly imperceptibly, like the blink of an eye, a single breath, the beat of a heart.**_

 _ **Only afterward did it become apparent to Georg von Trapp that he had fallen in love with his wife.**_

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 **A/N: I am sorry for the pace of these updates and thank you for the messages expressing your continued interest and support. It's just that I am very slow at the steamy parts, and ICYMI this had a lot of steamy parts. Please stick with me. I do have a lot of the rest of the story planned out and bits written already! You are still welcome to enjoy the review holiday (but be warned, there's only a couple of chapters left, and I will beg for one last review when it's over). Don't own, all for love.**


	21. Chapter 21: The Tempest

**Chapter 21: The Tempest**

 **TWO MONTHS LATER**

 **HERTFORDSHIRE, ENGLAND**

Before him, the snow stretched in every direction, draping the surrounding gardens, lawns and trees in a pristine white blanket, its intact surface like a promise of fresh starts and new beginnings. When he turned to face the house, its comfortable bulk and curving wings, crafted in honey-colored stone, seemed to extend a warm welcome, with the windows sparkling their own greeting.

But as far as Georg was concerned, after six weeks in England, the idyllic landscape was nothing more than a bitter joke.

In the distance, from the bottom of the sloping lawn, he could hear his children's joyful whoops and yells, could see the splashes of color their hats and mittens made against the snow: red, royal blue, green and, in Marta's case, pink. He'd spent a jolly hour helping build a snow cave before reluctantly abandoning them to climb back up the hill toward the massive entrance to Whitehead Manor. Georg cast one last, longing look back toward where his children gamboled like puppies in the snow. But he could not miss the unanticipated opportunity that he'd only just learned about, courtesy of Brigitta's offhand remark.

"Where are the others?" he had asked.

"Well, Liesl," the girl told him, " _she_ got invited to a neighbor's for tea. And Gretl had to go down for a nap. She was _im-pos-si-ble_ ," Brigitta added self-importantly. "It's not very clever of Gretl, to behave that way with only two days left before Christmas."

From the distance, he counted them again, just to confirm. With five of his children occupied in the snow, and with Liesl away from home and Gretl asleep, Maria must be somewhere in the house, alone: a rare occurrence, since these days, she was careful to always keep at least one of the children nearby, a defense against any sort of meaningful conversation. It might be days before he got another chance to confront her, and Georg simply could tolerate no further delay in resolving the problem called Maria. Indeed, after last night, the knot of shame in his belly made it imperative.

Still, he lingered on the portico, his breath hanging in the air, letting his mind wander back over the months since Maria had first come hurtling into their lives, trying to puzzle out where everything had, in the end, gone so very wrong.

God knows, he had done her enough harm from the very start. The summer, when his conduct toward her alternated between harsh criticism and irresponsible flirtation. His rude behavior after their dance in the garden. Plucking her back out of the Abbey and forcing her into a marriage of convenience. Taunting her under the waterfall, terrorizing her in the cave. Taking her innocence, thereby slamming the door on her vocation and sealing their marriage. Ravishing her nightly on their long and arduous trek through Italy and into France.

Georg had plenty to atone for, starting from the moment he'd flung open those ballroom doors to discover her bowing to an imaginary partner. And yet he'd known in his heart that she had forgiven him all these things. At least until last night.

As for his heart, it had been lost to Maria long before he'd been willing to admit it. For so long, he had struggled, failing to understand – and unwilling to accept – that loving another woman was not an act of disloyalty to Agathe, would not mean he loved her any less, would not sentence him to a lifetime of comparing one woman to another. But by the time they arrived safely in France two months ago, for a few euphoric days, at least, Georg had believed he had it all. He found himself fully at ease with, and comforted by, Agathe's cherished memory. If he'd had any last reservations, they'd melted away by now, banished now that he'd spent six weeks settling into her childhood home, where she lingered in every corner.

At the same time, his initial fears that he could never give Maria everything she wanted and deserved had long ago vanished, and she was firmly fixed in his personal heaven, his North Star. Unfortunately, sometime after their arrival in Paris, his star had gone into hiding. Why? For what seemed like the hundredth time, he searched his memory for answers.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Paris: the first few days had been a blissful blur. Behind the doors of their luxurious suite, they made the circuit repeatedly: first, gorging themselves on rich meals ("no apples, no sausage, not ever again," Maria had decreed); then making love in the enormous canopied bed; then, frolicking in the enormous bathtub. First he'd bathed her, then she'd bathed him, then they'd bathed each other. "Again, please. I'm not clean enough yet," she'd giggled, lofting a slender leg high in the air. Slippery pink skin sliding against his own. Soap bubbles hung in the air, as lovely and fragile as hope, and as easily destroyed.

Maria _had_ been happy, in the beginning, purring with contentment after their lovemaking, dancing about the suite singing at the top of her lungs. When the packages began to arrive, she'd squealed with delight at the piles of dresses, soft furs and leathers, vials of perfume and, most especially, the armfuls of silky lingerie. He'd had to restrain her from burning her high-waisted Nonnberg dress in the fireplace, coaxing her instead to bundle it off into the trash. And when the hotel barber shaved Georg and cut his hair, she refused to let the hairdresser anywhere near her tousled curls, which pleased him immensely.

When he closed his eyes, he could still summon the image of her face, transcendent, fixed on the stage of the Paris Opera. Seated next to him in the best box in the house, lovely in indigo velvet and diamonds at last, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. Gripping his hand between both of hers, she had stuttered her thanks, again and again. "It was my pleasure," he assured her, and then she fixed him with that look – burning-blue eyes looking up at him through dark lashes, the one that made him feel that her hand was inside his trousers instead, for God's sake. They had skipped dinner and rushed back to the hotel, after a taxi ride so shockingly rife with frantic caresses that he'd had to tip the driver double not to call the police.

But, having reviewed their history numerous times, and if he were perfectly honest with himself, Georg _could_ pinpoint a few moments when he ought to have known things would go awry.

There was, for example, that odd moment, the very evening they'd first arrived at their Paris hotel, unwashed, exhausted, still wearing the filthy clothes in which they'd fled Italy. A few words of explanation was all it had taken for the manager to usher them into a comfortable waiting area while the hotel's best suite was prepared. Nearby, a pompous, silver-haired man argued with the clerk on duty while a bosomy woman, still quite young under her make-up and dyed hair, hung on his arm. When the clerk shooed the couple back into the street, Maria had turned to him with a question on her face.

"They don't take that kind of trade at this hotel," he explained. "She's – ehrm –"

"His mistress?"

"More or less, yes."

"But they're giving _us_ a room, aren't they?"

"What the – you are my _wife,_ Maria. Or have ten days in the forest somehow caused you to forget?"

When their eyes simultaneously landed on her ringless hand, he'd been sick with regret. The cheap trinket he'd sent someone to buy before their wedding still lay twisted and tarnished in the carved wooden box. Georg vowed to replace it quickly, but then they got so wrapped up in each other, and their time in Paris was cut short, so he hadn't gotten around to it.

And what difference would it have made? he thought bitterly. Now that they were in England, Maria was refusing to acknowledge the marriage at all.

But he ought to have expected _that_ too, from the morning after their arrival in Paris, when he'd called her attention to the telephones that littered their suite – one by the bedside, two in the living area, one, improbably, by the bathtub.

"We were in the forest for so long I'd nearly forgotten the simple magic of a telephone call! Let's not wait any longer to call the children, shall we, Maria?"

"But they think I've gone back to Austria," she said weakly, looking away from him.

"Exactly! Why, just imagine how excited – no, _thrilled -_ they'll be to have you as their new mother. As you say, they aren't even expecting you in England at all, let alone-"

"Am I?"

"Are you what, darling?"

"Going to England."

"Of course you are," Georg frowned. "What the devil did you think was going to happen?"

She shrugged, but he didn't miss the tremble in her hands.

"Do – do we have to tell them we're married?"

He'd have thought he'd misheard her, had it not been for her stricken expression.

"Not tell them? I mean, if you don't want to tell them we were married all along, I suppose we can tell them that it happened after they left Italy – wait a minute. Don't you miss the children, Maria?"

"Oh, yes, of _course_ I do." Her face betrayed a strange mix of longing and panic. "But if I am to go to England with you, then it's just that – well, wouldn't it be more fun to tell them in person?"

He ought to have sorted things out just then, but he'd been aware of how much he'd put her through, and so grateful to her for not abandoning him, that he'd given in. He told himself that it might be amusing, anyway, to see his family's faces when they heard the news in person. Despite the distasteful feeling that accompanied deceiving one's own children, he'd lumbered through a few solo telephone calls with them without mentioning that he'd long since married their governess and was planning to bring her to England.

Once the connection with the children was established, though, it was hard to resist their pleas for his quick return to England. The pull was magnified by John Whitehead's concern that a further delay might endanger the government's welcome: a lie Georg had manufactured for convenience which had now come true. Within another week, Georg had cut short their time in Paris and escorted his bride across the Channel.

In the back of the car, speeding from Dover to the Whitehead estate, he broached the subject once again.

"Are you excited? Can you imagine their faces when they see you? And then when we tell them the news? How do you think we ought to-"

"Oh, I can't _wait_ to see them!" Maria's hands fidgeted nervously in her lap. "But can't we wait another day or two before we tell them about the marriage?"

It had been a rough crossing, and she'd spent most of it retching over the side of the ferry, gripping the railing with white knuckles. Indeed, her face still wore a greenish pallor. Georg had felt a surge of sympathy for his bride, who had never been outside Austria and spoke only German, and now had found herself exiled to a country that at present despised Germany and its allies. Worse, she'd be planted in the bosom of his first wife's family. Knowing John and Mathilde Whitehead as he did, Georg was reasonably confident things would work out, but he could see how things might look to Maria.

"Maria," he said gently. "I don't blame you for feeling nervous, but John and Mathilde _know,_ and not only about the convenience part. I asked John to give us time alone, remember?" He untangled her fingers from her skirt and lifted her palms to his lips, one after the other. Her hands were clammy with sweat. "And anyway," he said lightly, "I have no intention of sleeping apart from you, have you considered that? If we don't admit to being married, we'll have to stay in separate rooms."

Maria had been sleeping by his side, or not far away from it, since the first time they'd made love in the hotel, by the sea. He didn't like the thought of sleeping alone again, but in the face of her obvious distress, his heart swelled with tenderness and he resolved to make the temporary sacrifice for her sake.

He'd been relieved to see a smile flit across her face, the first in hours.

"You _could_ come visit me in _my_ room, Georg."

At that, Georg felt a brief flicker of unease. He'd never been one to fantasize about the help, with the exception of his grandmother's housemaid when he was just a lad. Let other men lust after their governesses; the very notion repelled him and if he were honest with himself, he'd always felt a bit ashamed of the origins of his relationship with Maria. But that was all the in the past now, after all. He had a dear price for it, they both had, but now she was his wife!

"Not possible," he snorted. "They'll put you in the governess' chamber, in the middle of the nursery, with Gretl and Marta right under your nose."

"Then _I'll_ come to _you_ ," Maria had whispered, looking up through her lashes, and that, of course, was all it had taken to win his assent.

But then a day or two had turned to a week, then two weeks, and now, after six weeks in England, Maria still refused to let him tell anyone about their marriage, or even to betray anything of their relationship. Instead, at least at first, she had moved through the days playing to perfection the role of the children's governess, dispensing affection, wisdom, laughter, and discipline with cheerful efficiency. He couldn't begrudge the children their frenzied joy at their reunion. What _did_ bother him, more than he liked to admit, was to hear her address him, without even the gloss of teasing irony she'd used all summer.

"As you wish, Captain."

"Yes, sir, Captain."

"No, thank you, Captain."

A dozen times or more a day, she spoke to him in this fashion, never with warmth or anger or humor or curiosity, only with empty neutrality, forcing him to endure a little squeeze of pain at the memory of that long, rainy day in the harvesters' hut, when he thought he'd broken her of the habit for good, rewarding her for "Georg," chastising her sweetly for "Captain."

After the first two weeks in England, scrambling for some way to break through her defenses, Georg remembered her complaint from that night in the cave. "You didn't even kiss me," she'd said, and so now, desperate for a connection, he dragged her into a convenient linen closet and kissed her soundly, until she sagged against him, glassy-eyed.

"What _is_ the matter, Maria?" he coaxed. "Please tell me, darling. Let me make things right, won't you?"

"Nothing is wrong," she murmured, offering him her mouth again.

"Is it about Agathe? Because truly, Maria, I-"

"No," she shook her head. "There's nothing like that."

"Are you homesick for Austria?"

"No. I told you, I just need a little more time."

"Has anyone been unkind to you?" he guessed, even though he didn't think that was the problem. For the Whiteheads had welcomed Maria, treating her with far more warmth than they'd owe a mere governess, and despite the questions plainly evident on their faces. Mathilde, in fact, was rarely without her English-German phrasebook, taking great pains to ascertain if Maria was warm enough, or needed a cup of tea, or preferred strawberry jam to apricot.

Her teeth grazed his earlobe.

"Maria, darling. I didn't bring you in here to for that."

Her fingers fluttered to his belt. "Oh, yes you did, Captain," she said feverishly.

His head swimming with frustration, Georg had brushed her fingers away, turned from her proffered mouth, and escorted her from the closet, feeling her feet drag behind him at every step.

Shortly after that, she had begun to keep one of the children near her throughout the day, making further conversation on the matter impossible. Things remained at an impasse for a few weeks longer before taking a turn for the worse. For lately, Maria had withdrawn into herself. No more singing, no more laughter, Day by day, he watched her sparkle fade, and the last bits of her confidence drain away, along, unfortunately, with his desire to do anything about it.

He tried to remind himself that she had always drawn her confidence from him. Things could not go on this way indefinitely, and it was up to him to set them right. But Georg had grown tired of begging, and direct interrogation hadn't worked. He'd been out of ideas. Until last night.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Sighing deeply, Georg turned and reached for the knocker that adorned the massive wooden door. A moment later, it swung open to reveal a bowing butler.

"Henderson, have you seen the children's governess?"

"I believe she's in the library, sir."

While the butler whisked his coat and hat away, Georg stamped the snow from his feet and sat while his boots were removed and his shoes retrieved.

"Thank you, Henderson, no," he waved his shoes away. He'd need the advantage of stealth afforded by stocking feet. He'd need _every_ advantage in the upcoming encounter, a circumstance for which he was entirely to blame after last night, when he had pushed things beyond stalemate to a crisis point.

That his concern for Maria was being displaced by despair, resentment and even the occasional spark of anger was no excuse for his deplorable conduct last night. As for Maria – who knew _what_ she was feeling?

Back when he'd been mired in misery over Agathe, he'd known perfectly well that Maria was falling in love with him, even felt guilty about it. But he'd been quick to dismiss too much fuss about feelings as women's work, like childbirth or nursing. His grief for Agathe had been like a dangerous animal he'd done his struggling best to contain.

Now, he strained to remember exactly what Maria had told him, that morning in the hotel, recalling with dread that she had accused _him_ of loving _her_. _Not_ the other way around, not exactly. She'd said she _needed_ him – something about how she'd manage without him, wasn't it? But loving someone and needing him were not the same thing, and lately, he'd had the sinking feeling that, incredible as it might seem, perhaps he finally understood what it was Maria _needed_ from him after all.

It was impossible to know what Maria thought, despite his many attempts to find out. Since they'd fled the hotel, she'd never said another word about her feelings for him. Even if she'd been in love with him, by all appearances, she'd put it behind her, moving through the days with capable serenity.

Why, it was as though he'd imagined the whole thing! But he hadn't, of course. Georg knew that, if only because of what had been happening between them at night.

 _Every_ night.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Their first night in England.

Georg had declined a last brandy with John Whitehead and retired early, nearly flattened by a wave of exhaustion and relief at having reunited with his children in a country that, at least for now, offered them refuge. While he missed Maria by his side, the pull of sleep was irresistible, and he was just turning to put out the bedside lamp when the grandfather clock in the great hall struck midnight and his bedroom door swung open.

Maria stood in the doorway, her curls tumbling over the shoulders of a shapeless flannel nightgown.

"The children?"

"Everyone is fine," she assured him, and then the door closed behind her and she was yanking off the nightgown to reveal the shape of her breasts and the curve of her hips, the ivory skin glowing through the translucent shimmer of the finest lingerie Paris had to offer. His mouth watered, while his blood went straight to his groin.

Within minutes, he had her stripped bare and squirming, arching desperately against him as he lavished her breasts with kisses. But a moment's scramble later, a flurry of arms and legs, and he found himself on his back, with her sitting astride him.

"You _promised_ ," she had reminded him, and he had fallen onto his back, laughing, his arms stretched overhead in mock submission. He had been instructed to lie still, and strictly forbidden to use his hands or mouth as she began to torture him with the luscious slide of her body against his. His laughter had faded to a strained chuckle and eventually a few deep groans of frustration as she rubbed herself, hot and slick, against his most sensitive parts. Purely by instinct, his hands flew to her hips to position her.

"No," she commanded him, her voice low and husky, "I want to do it myself." She pushed his hands to his sides and clamped her hands around his wrists.

The truth was that, if he chose to, it would be a moment's work to flick his wrists free of her grip, to unseat her and have her underneath and sheathed around him. But it pleased Georg to fulfill her wish.

"You've got the angle wrong," he advised, feigning composure although he was nearly crazed with lust. "Lean forward."

"Do you always have to be in command?"

"Little fool," he groaned, "don't you see? I am lost to you. Conquered. Utterly and completely vanquished."

Whether it was his heartfelt words or practical advice, at that moment, something shifted. Her blue eyes went wide, and with a last, lascivious wiggle and a jubilant cry, she was sliding easily down the length of him. With a relieved gasp, he shook away her grip and lifted his hands to cup her lovely breasts, stroking and squeezing them with the firm touch he knew she adored. Maria moved on him with a rhythm just clumsy enough to hold him right at the edge, until the sight of her – head thrown back, golden curls flying everywhere, was too enticing to resist.

He lifted up against her. "Do that again," she demanded, and he obliged her, bucking and straining, reaching deep inside her, while his fingertips swiped between her legs. He felt the desire coiling dangerously within him, winding tighter and tighter, until something snapped free. A fierce groan was torn from his throat as, with pulse after pulse, she pulled from him the most exquisite climax of his life

And so it had gone, every night for six weeks. When the great clock chimed midnight, Maria would creep into his room and bewitch him into submission. With every passing day, he promised himself that _tonight,_ he would hold her off until she offered some explanation for her perplexing and maddening daytime behavior and agreed to acknowledge their marriage. With every passing night, he failed to do so.

The problem was that he simply couldn't stop himself. His craving for Maria had become a dangerous compulsion, a monster: the more he fed it, the more it demanded of him, but at the same time, it wasn't enough.

Georg felt himself slipping away, bit by bit, the situation eroding his famous self-control, coming dangerously close to exhausting the supply of tenderness and gratitude he'd once had for the little governess. Why, he'd been the one to teach her to kiss – about her own body - to teach her _everything_ – and now she wanted nothing _but_ that from him, not even the love so painfully and gloriously born of their time in the forest, the love he so wished to lavish upon her.

It was as though the earth had suddenly turned upside-down, inverted on its axis. Somehow, he had become like one of the women who had developed feelings for him in the years after Agathe's death, while Maria had assumed the role of the rakish, lustful von Trapp, interested only in the temporary connection afforded by passion. Georg was fluent in six languages, and functional in another three, and he didn't even know the word for the man in such an arrangement.

It was a purely ridiculous notion, of course. But something had to be done. So last night, he'd planned a change in tactics, plotting a course that would either save their marriage or destroy it, the same kind of rash gamble that had won him the Maria Thereisen. If she wouldn't _talk_ about it, he would take another approach. So she liked a firm hand? He would wrench the words from her lips or die trying.

Like any clear-headed strategist, he'd carefully set the scene. When the clock struck and Maria slipped through his door, the room blazed with light, every lamp lit. Rather than waiting for her in bed, he'd seated himself, fully dressed, in the big chair by the fire.

"Cap – I mean – Georg, what are you-"

He remained seated.

"Take it off."

Forehead wrinkling with confusion, she raised the heavy flannel nightgown over her shoulders, revealing tonight's confection: wicked black lace, with no hint of innocence remaining. She'd dressed the part without knowing it.

"That too."

"Wouldn't you like to do it yourself?" But already, the tremble in her voice betrayed her.

"Do as you're told, Maria. I want you naked and on the bed," he said evenly. "Count of ten."

It took her no more than five seconds to obey.

Now he rose and went to stand over her.

"Slide down a bit, Maria. Now stop."

When she was where he wanted her, Georg took her hand and guided it upward until he could curl her fingers around the headboard's spindles. "Hold on to that," he ordered, circling the bed to repeat the maneuver with her other hand. Then he went to stand at the foot of the bed, arms crossed against his chest, keeping his expression impassive.

Maria's face had gone pale under her freckles.

"Now your feet."

For the first time, he saw fear flash across her face, and he nearly lost his nerve, but then saw something _else_ in her eyes, something of his untamed forest sprite, that spurred him onward.

"But my feet won't reach."

"Point your toes, then."

He'd called it exactly right: it was only with great effort that she could keep her toes just barely in contact with the footboard.

"That's right. Now. Maria." He let his fingertips trail over her skin, from her sensitive neck all the way down her willowy legs, before striding across the room to where the stout velvet bell-pull hung from the ceiling. "You haven't got one of these in your room, of course, only being the _governess,_ but you know how it works, don't you?"

"Georg-"

"One pull for a housemaid. Two for the butler. Three is an emergency – a fire, an intruder, that sort of thing. Pull this thing three times and the entire staff descends, with John and Mathilde on their heels. The constables are called automatically. That, _Fraulein_ Maria," he let the mockery leach into his voice, "is your challenge, you see. Your hands leave the headboard, your toes leave the footboard – keep them pointed, darling! – and I pull that cord three times. Imagine the shame of it! For a woman to be found with her husband in these circumstances is nothing more than an embarrassment. But the governess? Naked in her employer's bed? That's a different matter."

He began to undress.

"This is ridiculous, Georg. What kind of a threat is that? You no more want to be discovered this way than I do."

She hadn't spoken so many words in a row to him in weeks.

"As you have pointed out on more than one occasion, Maria, everyone already knows about me. With my wicked reputation, there's nothing left I can do to shock them. As long as the children are left out of it, I don't really care, not anymore. If this is all I'm good for, then I might as well embrace it fully, don't you think?"

Exercising great care, he lined his shoes up by the bed, hung his jacket in the closet, and removed his necktie.

"I don't have to stay here, you know," she fumed. "In fact, I think I've had quite enough-"

Georg had only to raise an eyebrow to still her – unless, of course, she wanted to read something into the way he'd wrapped the ends of his necktie around his fingers and tugged, hard. Let her think what she wanted about _that._ He put the tie on the bed, leaving it in her line of sight as a reminder, or a threat, really. Slowly, deliberately, he shed his trousers and hung them with his jacket; removed shirt and socks and underthings and left them for the valet.

Then he stalked around the room, feeling her eyes on him, knowing perfectly well the effect that the sight of his nude body had on her. He let the tension build and swell, pushing the air out of the room, until he see her quivering like a bowstring, until he could smell it on her, fear mixed with arousal, and then he pounced.

She was a vixen, all soft skin and wild hair, the taste and scent of her intoxicating. He went at her ferociously, with hands and fingers, with lips and tongue, stopping long enough only to assail her with words he'd never dared speak before, not to any woman.

He gave her no chance to rest, losing count himself after the third time he brought her to climax. And all throughout, she was curiously silent, giving up nothing but the occasional soft moan, her face rigid with concentration on the task he'd given her. Her hands gripped one end of the bed and her toes danced on the other. Only after he was inside of her, feeling her throb and pulse around him with every harsh stroke, sensing the nearly constant vibration of every muscle in her body, did he appreciate what it had taken for her to absorb the force of his passion.

After another two times, when he was sure that there was nothing left of her but a boneless whimper, he withdrew from her without taking his pleasure. Gently urging her fingers loose from the headboard, he stretched out alongside her and took her into his arms.

"Maria," he panted, "please. _Please._ I can't go on this way, not any longer. Tell me. Show me. Something. _Anything._ "

She lifted her head, but when her eyes found his, they were vacant.

" _You,_ " she said hoarsely, "you have _broken_ me."

For a moment, they were back in the cave again, the way it had been _before_. Before everything. But this time, she didn't flee. When she broke away from him, she let out a sound, the anguished howl of an injured animal, and raked her sharp nails down his chest to his thighs, leaving blood oozing in her wake.

And then she took him fully into her mouth.

There were a few, last, delirious thoughts, cinders escaping the incineration. If she were any more expert, he would surely die. Where had she learned _that_? But of course: he had been the one to teach her.

After that, his mind emptied.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Georg stood outside the library, the memory of last night leaving the haunting flavor of shame, like ashes, in his mouth.

 _With my heart as with a hand,_ he thought bitterly. So much for that. If this went on much longer, one of them was going to kill the other.

So, then, let the reckoning begin.

Taking one last, deep breath, he pushed open the library door.

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 **Wow, I did not actually know what was going to happen when I started this chapter. Don't own TSOM, and if I did, they'd probably take it away from me after this!**


	22. Chapter 22: Exit Plan

**Chapter 22: Exit Plan**

Heavy drapes were drawn over the library's windows, and no lamps were lit within. The fire in the grate gave off only a dull orange glow. After the snow-blinding glare from outdoors, it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dim light, and even then, Georg had to search the room before locating her. Maria wore a somber, deep-gray dress of fine material but plain design, and her wild bright curls been tamed into a bun that sat low on her neck. If not for her pale cheeks and slender hands, her presence could easily have gone unnoticed against the dark background of a richly tapestried armchair.

It was his first glimpse of her since last night's disaster. She had been absent from breakfast, an offense which, in the distant past, would have been the cause for a delightful round of bickering, but under the circumstances, was not only understandable but probably preferable. For after last night, how would he ever look her in the eye again?

From the expression on her face, it was clear that her thoughts were far away. Georg watched her for a minute or two, having not the least idea where to begin. When he noticed her fingers playing with a brightly colored scrap that had been hidden in her lap, it was a relief to have a topic of conversation.

"What's that you've got there?"

"Oh," she said tonelessly. "I'm learning to knit."

Hadn't he bragged to her about Agathe's knitting? He felt a pinch of remorse at the thought of her trying to emulate her predecessor.

"No doubt you'll be a natural, being able to sew the way you do."

"Doubt it." She held up her handiwork – a misshapen, three-fingered mitten, by the looks of it – and then dropped it back into her lap.

"Well, that doesn't matter, Maria." The absurdity of this conversation was intolerable. "Look, Maria. About last night, I am truly-"

"Don't." She cut him off, never taking her eyes from her lap. "Don't speak of it."

"But-"

"I know you want to apologize, Captain. Georg. But the best thing you can do is simply to let it go. Please."

Although Maria wouldn't look at him, he could see the fear in the taut line of her spine. Between that and the knitting, he felt his resolve soften. He was tempted to put their conflict aside, but he reminded himself it might be weeks before another opportunity for a private conversation presented itself. Instead, he would try to be as gentle as possible.

"Maria. Tomorrow, on Christmas Eve, I'm going to tell the children that we are married."

"I'd rather you didn't do that."

"I realize that, but I'm at a loss to understand why." He tried to keep the edge out of his voice. "You asked me for time, and I've given you that. The children are devoted to you. John and Mathilde have welcomed you with open arms. Perhaps you think that I – I mean, as for Agathe, I can tell you with complete certainty that I've made my peace with – she's _gone_ , Maria. Are you going to punish me for having loved her?"

"It's not-"

"And after last night, I wouldn't blame you if you never spoke to me again, but you also can't deny that you and I have a history. Going back to the very beginning. Then that damned party, when you ran away from me, and having to leave Austria, and the forest, and – look, I'm not very good at this kind of thing. I never had to - But I've tried to tell you that it's not like anything else I've ever – I'm not even the same man anymore-"

He sputtered to a halt, understanding from her face that the torrent of words hadn't budged her an inch. If she'd even been listening.

"I'd think twice before you tell them, Georg. Because if you do, then _I'll_ tell the Whiteheads that you took advantage of me. That you forced me, last summer, and that's why we had to marry."

Her soft tone of voice did nothing to diminish the shock: the little governess was attempting to _blackmail_ him?

"They won't believe you. I'm the father of their grandchildren, the devoted husband of their beloved late daughter, a decorated national hero, and a born aristocrat. Just to name a few reasons."

"To hear you last night, you had it that no one expects anything better from you. And I'll also tell them-" she hesitated.

"Don't threaten me, Maria."

"All right then, I won't threaten you. I'll plead with you instead, Georg. You ought to like that. Please. _Please,_ don't tell the children that we married. It's just going to make it harder for them when I leave."

Surely he'd heard her wrong.

"Leave?"

"I'm going to leave England. Just after New Year's."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's the hardest decision I've ever made. I love the children so much! But I need - I want to go home."

"Don't be ridiculous, Maria. You can't leave. Not now."

Her eyes went wide with alarm.

"W-what do you mean, not now?"

"Well – ehrm," he fumbled, "I mean that if by home you are talking about Austria," irritation temporarily pushed aside panic, "then of all the foolish notions you've ever surfaced, this is the most absurd yet. Have you read the papers, Maria? Listened to the radio?"

"Why no, I haven't," she said sharply. "There's this little problem of the language, you see."

"Of course," Georg conceded. "Let me spell it out for you, then. The Germans have Austria in a chokehold. People disappear for the slightest offense, or for no offense at all. Half of the Church is collaborating and the other half has vanished. And in case you've forgotten, Maria, you helped me escape. Go back to Austria and they'll have you in jail so fast your head will spin. And a jail sentence might not be the worst of it. No, Maria, whether you like it or not, I am your husband, and I am not sending you back to Austria. It's absolutely out of the question."

His attempt to frighten some sense into her only backfired. Maria rose to her feet and stuck her chin out at him, that seemingly defiant gesture that, he'd long ago learned, masked her fear.

"Very well, then. I'll go to Shanghai."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You told me once that they take everyone else's sinners there."

" _Sinners?_ " He felt his hands harden into fists. "Is that what you are? What _we_ are? Sinners? Because we didn't marry in church, is that it? May I remind you that your Reverend Mother was the one who - do you mean to tell me that you are _ashamed_ of having lain with me? Because it's a little late for that."

"I am _not_ ashamed."

Her tone was defiant, but she was doing everything she could to avoid looking at him.

"Then you're just running away again? The way you always do?"

"I'm not a coward, either."

"I know that," Georg struggled to stay calm. "I _know_ you're not a coward, Maria, because you were brave enough to face down Zeller, to get my children safely out of Austria. Brave enough to follow me into the forest and out of Italy, remember? You didn't give up on me. Which is why I am at a loss to understand why you would give up on me now. Give up on _us_ now."

"It's not that, Georg. It's just that," the tilt of her chin grew more resolute, "I've been dishonest, to both of us, and utterly unfair to you. We both know that our marriage was a sham."

"A sham?"

"A sham," she echoed. "You didn't want to do it either. Or have you forgotten?"

"A sham," he repeated, and then again, afraid of what else he'd say otherwise, "a _sham_." By now, panic and anger and shock roiled his gut. He felt the emotion cresting, knew for certain that another minute spent in her presence would result in disaster, that he would say or do something even more desperate than he had last night, and then it would be too late to salvage things. As though it weren't already.

"I knew you wouldn't understand," she declared, slouching back into the armchair.

"You're right about that," he said brusquely. "I don't. What I do know is that this interview has come to an end. I'll – ehrm – I'll take the matter under advisement, along with giving consideration to any further actions that may be required, and only at that point will we – ehrm – resume this discussion," he finished stiffly. Georg wasn't sure why he'd addressed her as though she were a junior officer, especially since he could hardly dismiss her. Instead, he dismissed himself, turning smartly on his heel and marching from the room.

As though he had no choice in the matter, his stocking feet took him up the majestically curving stairway, across a grand gallery and down a broad corridor, until he was facing the door: a door he hadn't once chosen to open, not even after six weeks in England. Grimacing, he stopped himself from knocking and let himself in.

He was surprised to find it in such good order, furniture polished and dusted, fresh flowers scenting the air. As though its occupant would return at nightfall to get ready for the evening's entertainment. As though its occupant hadn't left her room, her home, and her country behind, eighteen years ago, to marry a young Austrian naval officer. As though she hadn't been dead for more than four years.

Their visits to England had been rare, so Georg hadn't been inside Agathe's girlhood bedchamber more than a few times in all the years of their marriage. Still, it was a comfort to be here. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a small carved wooden box and spilled its contents out onto the bureau. He laid aside the medal, brushed his fingers tenderly against the photograph, and poked at two rings that lay nestled against each other: one small, one large, both dark with age. Finally, he took the third ring – misshapen and discolored – and rolled it meditatively between his fingers.

Perhaps he _ought_ to let her go. If that was what it would take to make her happy-

"Georg?"

"Mathilde?"

His mother-in-law stood in the doorway. He felt his face flush with guilt, like a schoolboy discovered where he shouldn't be, but her warm smile quickly put him at ease.

"Do you come in here frequently?" he asked. "I mean, you must – the flowers."

"I do," she replied wistfully. "I find it helps," and then after a moment, "What's wrong, Georg?"

"What's _wrong?_ You really need to ask me that?"

"But it's not Agathe that's troubling you, Georg. You've been different, somehow, ever since you got here. More at peace with things. No, it's your little governess, isn't it? Such a lovely girl. The children adore her."

"I do not wish to discuss my personal affairs in this manner, Mathilde!" he snapped, and then feeling guilty for losing his temper at this kind-hearted woman, he added, "The children _do_ adore her, yes. It's just that – well, she can be a bit of a headache." He strove for a disinterested tone, and knew that he had failed.

"Don't be too hard on her, Georg. She's in love with you, you know."

Shame weighed on his shoulders.

"I – ehrm - I know."

"And you're in love with her, aren't you?"

He dug his toe into the carpet and nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Have you told her so?"

"I didn't have to," he burst out. " _She_ told _me_." It was embarrassing, but a relief, too, to unburden himself. "But apparently her feelings have changed. I've tried to ask her about it. I've even threatened her, God help me. I've tried everything."

"Everything?"

"Everything. It's not like I can marry her. I've already done that!"

Much to his surprise, Mathilde laughed. The sound was oddly fitting in this roomful of sad memories.

"Georg," she said. "Your mother was a wonderful woman, as is your sister. You've had _two_ wives, and I know first-hand what an outstanding husband you were to Agathe. You're a very good father to _five_ daughters, not to mention two fine sons. And from what I hear – don't bother denying it, it's all over Europe – you're quite popular with the ladies."

"Now look here, Mathilde-"

She silenced him with a wave of her hand.

"But for all of that, Georg, dear heart," Mathilde said gently, "you don't know very much about women, do you?"

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Although her heart throbbed with sorrow, Maria forced herself to sit perfectly still in the great armchair, staring into the smothered fire. She told herself, quite irrationally, that as long as she didn't move at all, it would be like none of it had really happened, that things could still go back to the moment before she'd told him everything. Well, not everything, but nearly so. There was no going back now.

She'd intended to wait until after Christmas to tell him she was leaving. But maybe it was for the best, happening this way. She'd anticipated her departure from the moment they'd arrived in England, had thought of little else for days, had dreaded it even though she couldn't quite work out when or how it would take place, and it was almost a relief to have set things in motion herself instead of waiting for him to take the first step. It was also advantageous to have broached the subject while he was mired in regret about last night.

Last night – but she couldn't let herself think about that.

So there she sat, for how long? It might have been three minutes or three hours, but eventually anguish subsided to a dull ache, and she was able to rise and leave the library, just in time to encounter Liesl returning from her afternoon at the neighbors. The girl, all pink cheeks and silvery chatter, was bubbling over with delight. Louisa and Brigitta, having been infected by their sister's excitement, pranced manically about the foyer.

"Everyone was so kind – the most wonderful music room – her dress was – little cakes - there was a boy – flowers - her hair was just – lovely girls - champagne – they're going to – oh, can I, Fraulein Maria?"

"I'm sorry, Liesl, can you what?"

"Go caroling with them tonight. Lady Winchester invited me."

"Oh, I don't know, Liesl." Maria pinched her nose between her fingers. "I suppose you ought to ask your father."

"But she can't ask Father," Brigitta said. "He's gone away."

A fist clutched at Maria's heart.

"Away?"

"I mean, for the evening. I heard him tell Grandfather that he had some – I don't know, some kind of errand to do, and that he might have to go as far as London for such a _complicated_ matter, and not to expect him until late. Do you think it has to do with Christmas gifts?"

"May I, Fraulein Maria?" Liesl begged.

"May you what? Oh! Well, in that case, Liesl, you ought to be sure your grandmother approves, but I don't see why not. You can wear your-"

And then Maria was absorbed by the blessed distraction of the children, swept into the current of questions and squabbles and laughter and a Captain-less supper and singing and reading by the fireplace and sending Liesl off and bedtime routines, all the while trying to ignore the bright ache in her chest.

But eventually, she and her thoughts were alone in her bedchamber. Marta and Gretl were asleep, the older children were reading in their rooms, and with Georg safely out of the house, she felt as though she could let go of a breath she'd been holding for hours.

It must be something important, for him to have driven all the way to London. She wondered numbly if he might already be making the arrangements for her departure. Georg was, after all, a decisive, practical and business-like man. Keeping busy was his way of feeling in control; she knew that after watching him chop shedfuls of wood in the forest.

Not that her news hadn't affected him – she had seen his face change when she'd made her announcement, glimpsed the flicker of sadness beneath his confusion and barely controlled rage – but it was only natural, that melancholy bit that came at the end of a temporary pleasure, like a beautiful summer day, or a birthday party, or an evening at the Opera-

Pushing away her memories of Paris, Maria went about changing into her flannel nightgown and brushing her teeth, trying to think instead of the children. Because all of this trouble was for them, wasn't it? The children must never know that Georg had married her, an act which had, temporarily at least, made her their mother.

She'd been fresh out of Nonnberg, with less than a week at the villa, the first time she'd overheard Marta asking Friedrich, "Why doesn't Fraulein Maria marry Father? Then we could have a new mother!" She'd pretended not to hear, and had fled before hearing Friedrich's answer. But once the little girls got over their shyness, it was impossible to avoid the question, which they fired at her at least twice a week.

"Fraulein Maria, why don't _you_ marry Father? I don't want Baroness Schrader to be my new mother! I want _you_!"

Fortunately, the older children would always break in at that point, self-importantly explaining about nuns and aristocracy and age differences and a hundred other reasons that their governess could never, ever, become their mother, and eventually, the younger ones stopped asking. Also fortunately, no one ever noticed Maria's cheeks turn pink when the topic arose, because it was so quickly disposed of.

It would break their hearts, all seven of them – and after everything else they'd experienced, too, losing their mother, and their home – to learn the truth, only then to lose her as well. No, once they knew she had been their mother, and for quite some time at that, she would never be able to leave them. Except that she _would_ have to leave them, when things with Georg came to an end. As they inevitably would.

Maria went to the window, pushed aside the heavy drapery, and looked out at the silver spill of moonlight, how it made something magical of solid stone walls, snowy lawns and the leafless frames of trees. It had surprised her at first, heartsick and homesick for Austria as she was, that the beauty of God's creation could comfort her heart, even in an unfamiliar landscape.

She thought back to when she'd stood by another window, the one in the hotel by the sea, where she'd watched the sun move across the water until she'd made the decision to follow Georg to France. Now, stranded in frigid and foreign surroundings, Maria tried to summon up the confidence she'd had that afternoon, the certain knowledge that he loved her. Perhaps he _did_ still love her, in his own limited sort of way. Why else was he insisting on revealing the truth of their marriage? Certainly, there were moments, just after making love to her, when he looked at her like she was the most important thing in the world.

But he hadn't said a word about it! Surely he should have, by now.

He had asked her for more time and she had given it to him, following him to France like a lovesick puppy, keeping her promise to herself to never nag or hound him. It was just that she'd been so _hungry_ for him, a hunger she'd mistakenly thought could be slaked, so that in some hazy, indefinite future, if he couldn't keep loving her back, they would leave Paris and go their separate ways, wistful but sated.

But it hadn't worked out that way. On their journey to France, he had shown her the parts of himself that she could never have guessed at, with the unexpected result that she was more in love with him than ever. When he had simply assumed that she would accompany him to England, Maria, unable to resist a chance to see the children, had gone along.

This afternoon, in the library, she'd been tempted to beg for just a few more days, but the truth was, she was nearly out of time. And what good would it do when, inevitably, he changed his mind about her and sent her away? And even if, circumstances being what they were, Georg didn't send her away, she could no longer bear the prospect of never getting everything she needed from him. Maria now understood that, in following him from Italy, she had sentenced herself to a lifetime of settling for what he could give her and being reminded of what he couldn't.

She couldn't stay. She just _couldn't._ She had to leave, that was all there was to it.

He hadn't wanted to marry her. He had tried to warn her, from the very start and in every which way, that his feelings for her would never be more than temporary. That no matter what his body demanded of him, his heart was permanently broken – "I can't get past it," he'd told her once. On more than one occasion, he'd tried to repeat his warnings, a process so uncomfortable for both of them that he could barely get the words out and she'd hastened to change the subject to spare him.

But she had fallen even more in love with him anyway. "Falling in love," in English, hat was an idiom she'd learned about from Mathilde Whitehead's phrase book. The German expression was more straightforward, but " _falling_ in love" seemed completely appropriate, because when you fell, you got hurt.

Grimacing, Maria let the drapery drop, blocking out the night sky and leaving her alone with other, more private thoughts, the kind you kept hidden from everyone, even sometimes, yourself. On that long-ago afternoon, standing by that hotel window, looking out at the sea, she'd been so innocent. Not technically, of course, having given him her virginity a few hours before. But she'd thought those first encounters had made her an expert at love and lovemaking, and how those two things were the same and different. Now she knew that she hadn't understood at all.

Maria had certainly learned a lot about _sex_ since then; whatever the Lord's moral objections might be, she understood the purely practical reasons that He had made sex outside of marriage and procreation a sin, because she had experienced first-hand its power to ruin lives, break hearts and bring the world to a halt.

Last night, for example. She felt her face redden and her heart race as the shocking memories overtook her. Shocking, but not shameful: from the start, she had given herself to Georg because she loved him, and because she loved him, she knew perfectly well the only thing that he wanted and needed from her in return. Last night merely confirmed what they both already knew: that she meant everything to him _because_ he held all the power over her, held it easily, and knew it. In the end, she had given him exactly what he required: she had lost herself completely.

And yet she couldn't regret it. If she lived another hundred years, there would never be another man for her. No one else could give her that kind of joy. But what he gave her in return, she had begun to realize, was not going to be enough. She would happily have traded away a tiny bit of it to hear him admit that he loved her, too.

From downstairs, there came the sound of the massive foyer doors opening and then closing again, the rush of voices: Liesl, returning from her evening out, the Whiteheads, Henderson the butler, and – yes, it was Georg. Her heart sank a little as the picture of his handsome face rose up before her, the way other people saw him: imposing, reserved, thoughtful, elegant. Perfect.

Making love with Georg always seemed to open up a crack in his otherwise implacable demeanor, a crack through which she had been able to glimpse the man she loved more and more with each passing day. But last night, all she had seen was distance, and disappointment, and confirmation of what she had always known would happen. And then the crack had sealed up tight.

As the clock crawled toward midnight, Maria reviewed her situation and reached the same conclusion she'd reached a hundred times before: making love with Georg was not going to be enough for her, not for a lifetime. Yet she couldn't get enough of him, either: tonight, like every other night at this time, she was overcome by longing for him. If her heart cried out for him, her body cried out for him too.

What harm could it do? She was already in too deep, and now that he was making her arrangements, this might very well be the last time. Maria pulled her nightgown over her head, threw open the bureau drawer and ran her trembling fingers through the silky pile of lingerie until she found one of his favorites from Paris. After she drew it over her body and resettled the big flannel nightgown overall, she slipped from the room and raced silently down the long, broad hallways until she stood at his door.

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 **I like the encouraging reviews and PMs, asking for updates, but the truth is I'm in the middle of a huge life transition and I don't to rush this, because writing the rest of this story (one chapter + an epilogue, and a lot of it is sketched-out already) will bring me comfort and joy during a bit of a tough time. (And I don't celebrate Christmas, either!)**

 **There's a little Easter egg in here from my other fandom, see it?**

 **I started out this story resolved not to ask for reviews, and hope that if you haven't reviewed, you've enjoyed the free pass. But I might ask, just once, at the end.**

 **I don't own TSOM or anything about it.**

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**


	23. Chapter 23: Reason to Stay

**Chapter 23: Reason to Stay**

Maria slipped from her bedchamber and raced down the long, hushed corridors until she stood before his door. But when her fingers closed around the round brass knob, it wouldn't turn. She tried a second and then a third time, finally letting out a little huff of annoyance as she gave up and knocked.

"Who is it?" came the muffled response.

"What do you mean, who is it?" she hissed. "It's _me_. Just like it is every night. Why have you locked the door?"

A moment later, she could hear Georg's voice all too clearly, even through the stout wooden door.

"Maria, go to bed."

" _What?"_

"I said, go to bed. I was nearly asleep myself when I heard you knock."

"Georg, please!" Her face flushed with humiliation. "You're not going to leave me standing out here, are you? Open the door, please."

There was a long, tense pause before the door opened, just enough so that she could see him, dressed in rumpled pajamas, his hair mussed and his face unshaven.

"Can't I come in? Just for a minute?"

"Go back to your room, Maria," he said firmly, and then more gently, "We'll have a talk in the morning."

"You're turning me away?" she choked, not even trying to keep the fear and panic out of her voice. "I thought that, at least until I leave, we would still – I mean, you're my _husband_."

"Oh, is that what you call it? Because I'm starting to think I've become more of a - And anyway, as you yourself pointed out, this whole marriage has been – what was the word you used? A _sham_ , wasn't it?"

He pressed his lips together, as though trying to hold back any further response. But after a moment, he sighed.

"Look, Maria, I've given the whole matter a great deal of thought. There is much we need to discuss, and at this moment, the last thing I want to do is to make things any worse, or say anything else I'm going to regret. We're both exhausted and stirred up, and I think it's best if we both get a good night's sleep before we make any decisions. Now, if you'll excuse me?"

And with that, he closed the door.

Maria could barely remember making the trip back to her room, but she would never forget the look on his face. Had he shouted at her, had his eyes gone icy with fury, or hot with lust, or even bleak with grief, she'd have known where she stood with him. But his face had been soft with unnerving kindness, and the warmth in his voice was lined with resignation and pity. As though he had already moved beyond her, to a place she could not go.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Whitehead Manor dated back to the seventeenth century. Or was it the sixteenth? Maria couldn't remember. John Whitehead loved to boast about the Manor's distinguished history. For centuries, it had stood on this very spot, solid, sturdy and invincible, having withstood civil wars, fires, storms, and other calamities.

Which was why it was so very odd that this morning, Maria's bedchamber had gone all _wobbly._ The walls and floors wavered in the thin winter-morning light, as though they were made of silk and paper rather than stone and wood. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that morning could hold off until the room stopped trembling so.

But there was no denying that the sun had made its appearance some time ago, and it would be far better if her first encounter with Georg took place over breakfast, in the company of his family and a handful of servants. Who knew what he'd confront her with once they were alone? Not to mention that she'd missed breakfast entirely yesterday. She could not bear to begin what might be her last morning with the von Trapp family being chastised for another such transgression.

She splashed water on her face, slid back into yesterday's dress and tied her hair off her face, and the whole time, the knot of dread in Maria's chest drew tighter until, by the time she stumbled down the great stairway, she could hardly breathe. She skidded into the dining room and took her seat just as Henderson appeared by her chair to pour her tea.

"Good morning, children," she murmured, cupping her hands around the cup's comforting warmth.

"Good morning, Fraulein Maria," they chorused.

Captain von Trapp was seated at the far end of the table, applying himself with uncommon gusto to a plateful of eggs, and neither looked up nor joined in the greeting. He was groomed to his usual perfection, clean-shaven and neatly combed, formally dressed in an impeccable white shirtfront that gleamed against a dark suit.

"Well! Christmas Eve at last!" Mathilde Whitehead said gaily. "And a special Christmas it will be indeed, with you children here. We've a great deal left to do, though. Starting with trimming the tree. We'll begin in the parlor, just after breakfast. You too, Georg."

"I'm sorry, Mathilde," he looked up with a polite smile. "If it can wait until the afternoon, I'd be happy to help, but I've got some business to attend to this morning."

Maria felt her belly lurch with apprehension. Was his business related to her departure? She was resigned to leaving, she really was, but was he really going to send her away on Christmas?

"What could be more important than the Christmas tree, Father?" Marta asked.

"As a matter of fact, Marta, I'm hoping to get married. This morning, if possible," he added, and without another word, he returned to his eggs.

This remarkable announcement elicited murmurs of curiosity and gasps of surprise. But not from Maria, who was too preoccupied by the dining room, which had begun to behave as oddly as her bedchamber, although in this case, rather than the walls trembling in place, the whole room began to spin slowly around her. The children somehow didn't notice, being focused instead on their father's news.

"Who's going to marry _you?_ " she heard Kurt pose the question around a mouthful of toast. She really ought to reprove him. If only she weren't so dizzy!

"Well," he put down his fork, "I'm hoping Fraulein Maria will marry me."

Now she let her eyes rest on him, but only because he seemed to be the only fixed, stable thing in the whirling dining room. Maria was dimly aware of Liesl and Louisa, who had bolted from their chairs, squealing with delight, and were prancing in place, held there by their father's warning gesture.

"Why would you want to do _that_?" Kurt persisted.

Her Captain's steady gaze held her own.

"Because I love her," he said simply.

The words hit her with a giddy rush of joy mixed with disbelief, which only further unsteadied her.

"But does _she_ want to marry _you?"_ Brigitta piped up.

"I don't know, darling. Shall we ask her?" he said slyly.

Every pair of eyes in the room was trained on her now. Maria could see them waiting for her reply, their faces shining bright with hope and love, but there was also the sickening realization that if she opened her mouth to say anything, all would be lost. Hand to her mouth, she raced from the dining room and across the grand foyer. There was no chance of making it up the stairway, but she remembered a servants' toilet just under the stairs, and she made it there just in time.

Afterwards, she was too exhausted to do anything but close her eyes and press her hot cheek to the cool tile. The dizziness and wretched nausea had eased, but now it was her thoughts that spun wildly out of control. What on earth was he up to, declaring his love for her just in time to send her away? And the bit about getting married? They were already married!

"Has it been this bad every morning?"

When she opened her eyes, there was a black-booted toe just inches from her face, and the neat break of a trouser-cuff, and a pair of gray-wool-clad legs leading upward to the source of a deep, kind voice.

"Go away," she said, weak with embarrassment.

"Not a chance," the voice said over the sound of running water. "It will get better, you know. Another week or two, and you'll be fine. But you won't be able to keep it a secret much longer."

"Is there anything you're _not_ an expert in?" Maria said wearily.

She heard the door close, leaving the two of them confined in the compact chamber, with its orderly pattern of black-and-white tiles, its fixtures glowing dully in the dim light.

"I'm sadly lacking in many regards, as you well know. Just a sip, now."

He crouched at Maria's side and put a glass to her lips, allowing her only a few thirsty swallows before he put the water aside, ignoring her murmur of protest, and wiped her face with a damp handkerchief.

"I _am_ sorry," he said gravely. "I do love you, and I ought to have told you so long ago, but it seemed so obvious to me that I began to believe I had. Are you quite sure I didn't? Because I was certain-"

"How did you know?"

"That I love you?"

"No, about the-"

'Oh! Well. We've been together every night for two months, and you haven't bled," he said bluntly. She felt her cheeks go from pink to red when he cupped his hands at chest level and added, "And up here? There's _more_ of you."

Her humiliation was now officially complete.

"May I?" Without waiting for permission, he set glass and handkerchief aside and fit himself into the limited space, until he was seated facing her, with his back to the wall and his long legs folded before him. "Maria, darling," he began, reaching for her hand.

"Don't you touch me!" she snapped, curling herself into a tight little ball of misery on the hard tile floor, as far away from him as she could get.

"You're not going to make this easy for me, are you? Very well, then. I'll try to keep my distance, though it _is_ a little crowded in here," Georg said amiably. "I thought my announcement would have a more positive effect, but apparently I was mistaken. Not that I don't deserve it."

Maria felt out of sorts, unaccountably wary. Hadn't he spoken the words she'd longed to hear? What was the matter with her? Her heart should be wildly rejoicing! But deep inside, she feared this was just some kind of trick. She knew how it would go: he would reel her back in again, with his blue eyes and handsome face and velvet speeches and his wit and charm. The very thought of going another such round with him exhausted her.

"Maria," he interrupted her thoughts, "do you really _want_ to run away to Shanghai with my baby in your belly?"

She tucked her chin even more firmly against her chest so there was no chance of meeting his eyes, took a deep breath and gave an emphatic nod – _yes. Yes, I do. It will be for the best._ But Maria had never been very good at hiding what she was thinking and feeling, and in the next moment, her head began to swing from side to side – _no. Please don't send me away._ When she peeked up at him, for just long enough to steal a glance at his face, his eyes were closed and he looked quite pale, and oddly _relieved_ , somehow. She looked away hastily, embarrassed, like she'd caught him in a private and shameful moment.

"Then why run away? Why do it?"

"First of all, because I thought you'd be angry about this-" she lay a protective palm over her midsection, "and also -"

" _Angry?_ I'm not angry, I'm delighted! How could you possibly think I'd be angry about such wonderful news? And it's you that ought to be angry at me! I'm the one who got you this way, after promising not to."

"Why did you?" she said shyly. "I mean, why _didn't_ you – ehrm - I mean –"

This had to be the most embarrassing conversation anyone had ever had.

"I promise to answer any question you ask me, but first, what did you mean, 'and also'?"

"And also because eventually you're going to send me away anyway. It will be less complicated, less upsetting for them, if the children don't know that we have been married. Or about – ehrm - him."

" _Him_? How do you know it's a - hold on. Why would I be sending you away? I'm the one who begged you to come to Paris, don't you remember? And who brought you here to England."

"Because you always send your – your _mistresses_ away when they fall in love with you. That's what you told me."

"Maria. Maria, _darling._ How many times must I tell you? This is not the same thing, not the same thing at all! What will it take for me to make you understand?" He tugged at his ear. "All right. Let me see if I can make it easier for you. What were you doing last year, on Christmas eve?"

She blinked.

"Me? I was at Nonnberg, of course. I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"I mean at this very moment, what would you have been doing? One year ago from right now."

"Christmas Eve, and Christmas for that matter, they are blessed days, of course, but in many ways, the order of the day would have been like any other. By this hour, the first service would be well behind us, and it would be nearly time for the second. In between, we'd be doing chores. I'd be working in the kitchens or the barns, most likely. There was no breakfast until after the second service," Maria said broodingly, remembering her grumbling stomach.

"Were you thinking of your children? Lovemaking? The opera? Parisian lingerie?"

"Of course not," she frowned. "I knew nothing of those things, or if I did, they were not important to me. I was thinking only of God's will. Or trying to, anyway."

"And yet these are all things you've become quite fond of, to one extent or another. What happened to the girl in the ugly dress and black boots who invaded my ballroom? What happened to the postulant who wanted only to serve God and swore never to marry?"

"She changed," Maria shrugged. "That was a long time ago. A very, very _long_ time ago."

"Of course," Georg agreed, "but then why can't you see that _I've_ changed, too? Who knows why I acted up after Agathe died? Maybe I _was_ lonely. Maybe I _wanted_ to fall in love. Certainly I behaved badly toward my children, we both know that. I'll never understand how you could have fallen in love with the man I was last summer, but that is not really the question, Maria. The question is whether you can love the man I am now."

"How can you even ask me that? You _know_ you were always the only one for me," she said in a low voice.

"Do I? Do I know that? I have done you so many wrongs, Maria, not the least of which is failing to tell you how much I love you. But you have wronged me too. Among other things, you never told me, either."

Resentment bubbled in her chest. Uncurling herself, she hoisted herself up on her elbows to face him.

"I did so tell you! In the hotel."

"You told me you _needed_ me, Maria, but _everyone_ needs me. Have you ever told me you love me?"

"I didn't have to!' she glared at him. "I followed you all over Europe like some kind of lost puppy. I asked for nothing, and I never complained, not even when I began to want more from you in return. And I gave you everything you asked of me."

"Did you? You gave me your body, a gift I truly cherish, but not your trust. With the exception of that one day on the bridge, the _only_ place you trust me is in bed. The rest of the time, it seems like you're poised to flee at any moment. I've lost count of the number of times you've run away from me, or threatened to, and now, without even giving me a chance, you're doing it again! Why, even under torture, even when I threatened to tie you down, you wouldn't be straight with me about how I could make things right. Or about the baby! You want to know why I didn't stop myself? I didn't think of it until this moment, but now I see that it might have been the only way for me to try and make you stay put!"

His version of events took her aback. And apparently, he was not finished yet.

"You know, Maria, that day I took you from the Abbey, your Reverend Mother warned me to leave you untouched. I failed miserably, of course-"

"But Georg, I _wanted_ to be with you that way. How many times must _I_ tell _you?_ "

He held up a hand to silence her and then the words began to pour out of him like water.

"But the irony is that _you_ are the one who touched _me._ I thought that my feelings had died, along with Agathe. Those women I bedded – how I pitied them, for loving me when I was capable of nothing more in return. By the time you came along, I thought I was past all of that. I was prepared to make the best of things with a second marriage. I was _not_ prepared to find myself lusting after someone who had no use for my attentions, in bed or out of it. I was confused. Frightened. When you ran away – the _first_ time, that is," he returned her glare, "I thought it might be for the best."

He ran his hands through his hair and scowled at her again.

"And _then_ I'm forced by circumstances to marry you! And _then_ you inform me that you're not going to be a nun after all! And _then_ you announce that I'm the one you've singled out to teach you to – of course. Because that's what _everyone_ wants from me." He let out a harsh bark of a laugh. "Yet _still,_ I tried to resist. I encouraged you to find yourself a husband, I taught you how to kiss, and eventually, despite my better instincts, I taught you every single thing that comes afterward."

Maria watched his expression change, the way, during that long-ago afternoon at the hotel, she'd watched the sunlight transform the sea. She studied his handsome face as his expression lost every trace of the wit and charm and humor and intellect he wielded against the world, until the elegant veneer was completely stripped away, leaving only his eyes. His sad, beautiful eyes.

"I didn't want to believe it – that I could still love Agathe and love you too. That day in the hotel, when I thought I had to leave you behind – oh, God- but you came back to me – and – and then something happened in that forest, I don't know what it was, or when it happened, and suddenly it wasn't just that I wanted you anymore, it was that I – I _loved_ you."

His gaze dropped to his lap, where his hands lay trembling.

"The tsunami," he muttered. "I thought you were-"

"Are you saying I destroyed everything?"

He managed a weak chuckle.

"You are _hopeless_ , Maria, love. Damn you! No, don't you see? The last time – after the war, when everything I cared for was swept away. It was Agathe who saved me. To be forced to let go of her – and then this time – am I to lose you, too? How many times can one man be forced to recreate himself? I have lost my home, and my country, and I very nearly lost my children, and I thought you were the one this time, the one who - I should have told you, yes," he said, his voice hollowed-out with regret. "I suppose I feared that if I did, you might run away from me. Again."

He ran an arm across his face, a gesture as boyish as any of Kurt's, and all at once, Maria saw that Georg was not Salzburg Captain any more, not at all. Indeed, she felt like she was seeing him clearly for the first time in a very long time. All these months, while she had taught herself to expect nothing from him, to forgive his ruined heart every shortcoming, all that time, he had been remade entirely.

Her mind flashed back to a memory: the two of them, coiled together, naked, on the dirt floor of a harvest hut while a storm raged around them.

Recreated, he had said. Remade. Reborn.

She found herself sidling up close to him, her outstretched legs seeking the warmth of his.

"Georg, why didn't you tell me any of this before?"

"You haven't given me a moment alone with you in weeks. Except in bed."

"And yet you turned me away last night!" Maria's eyes stung at the humiliating memory.

"I know. It must have seemed cruel, but if I had let you into my bed last night – well, we both know you trust me _there_." His mouth tightened into a straight line. "What would that have accomplished? What I wanted to know was whether or not - you see, I was starting to believe that was the _only_ thing you wanted from me."

"Of course that's not the only thing! You have given me so much, Georg, not only a family but – well, I don't know what you'd call it. _Confidence_ , maybe. You make me feel _important._ And even when you are being so bossy, I know now it is just you trying to keep everyone safe. It _is_ true that I like –" she stammered, trying and failing to summon one of the expressions he had taught her during their long nights in the forest, "I _do_ like – ehrm - being with you. But I thought that was all _you_ wanted from _me,_ and I tried not to want any more than that, knowing you would send me away when you were done with me."

"I don't know how you talked yourself into believing that," he said sternly, "but I've done nothing to deserve it. Not for quite a long time, anyway. But because of the way we started out, you find it impossible to trust me. You assume the worst of me. As though it hardly matters what I do to redeem myself. I am doomed, regardless."

"But you- you said you couldn't beat it," she picked through her memories, although everything looked different now. "You said that marrying me was like putting her in the ground again." But even as she spoke, Maria thought about how she'd been so uneasy about following him to England, expecting his return to Agathe von Trapp's childhood home to jolt him back into grief. But that hadn't happened at all: ever since they'd arrived here, he spoke of his late wife easily, openly, with great affection.

Another memory: those panicked minutes in the hotel hallway, when she had reflected on the price she had paid, time and again, by running without stopping first to think. How had she let herself do it again, jumping to such a wrong-headed conclusion?

"And _you_ told _me,_ Maria, that you would never marry, that you entered Nonnberg Abbey because only God's love lasts forever. And while God undoubtedly will never desert you, your Reverend Mother, on the other hand? She couldn't get rid of you fast enough. I know she did it to protect you, but I suspect she also knew exactly what was going to happen between us. And while we're at it-"

By now, Georg had regained his composure and his normal air of authority, and there was no missing the twitch of his fingers against his crossed arms. But Maria knew that her recent impression of him, uncertain and vulnerable, would remain engraved on her heart forever.

"While we're at it, Maria, let me tell you something else. The love of a man and a woman is holy, too. If God's love for you is forever, well, then, so is mine. And that is why-"

He leaned forward, his eyes searching her face.

"I want you to marry me." He looked around the cramped toilet. "I could get down on one knee, but I'm not sure there's enough room in here."

"What difference will that make? We're _already_ married."

"No," he shook his head. "You were right about that. That marriage was a sham, as false as that dreadful ring. You can't build a marriage on convenience. Or on lust – well, not _only_ on lust," a smile flickered across his face, but then his expression grew serious. "We need to start from the very beginning. Because I do love you, Maria. Not the girl you were in the ballroom, but the woman you are now. But you must accept my proposal only if you can promise to stop running away from me. And only if you can tell me – go ahead, darling, go ahead and say it. Now."

For a moment, Maria was out on that bridge again, the world quaking around her, but she swallowed back her fear and blurted it out: "I love you, too, Georg. I _do_! But-"

"Now what is it? You're not going to turn me down, are you? After I made a fool of myself in front of my children?"

"No! I mean, yes, I will, I _will,_ but you can't just go out and get married because you feel like it! We're refugees, from an enemy country, you can't just expect them to-"

"You can if you're me, with friends in high places like John. Even so, I had to drive all the way to London to get the appropriate permissions, and a license, and then I had to stop in three towns on the way back before I could find a priest who was willing to fit us in on Christmas Eve. Because this time, we'll get married in a church. You'd like that, darling, wouldn't you?"

Of all the revelations from this momentous conversation, why did her eyes well with tears now?

"And I bought you a proper ring, this time. _And_ a dress!" he announced triumphantly. "But we haven't got a lot of time. The priest is only available until noon. Do you think you're well enough to make it upstairs?"

Maria knuckled the tears away and shook out her stiff elbows and knees. But before she knew it, Georg had risen to his feet in one smooth motion, scooped her into his arms and kicked the door open.

"Put me down!" she gasped.

"Enjoy it while you can," he advised her, laughing, "I won't be able to do this much longer." When they had climbed the stairway to the first landing, Mathilde Whitehead appeared in the foyer below them.

"Have you finished getting yourselves engaged yet? I've got the children in the parlor, dressed and ready to go!" she called cheerfully.

"Think so. Give me another ten minutes before calling for the cars," he said.

Through the open door of Maria's bedchamber, she could see one of the housemaids bustling about.

"The dress arrived an hour ago, Captain. I'm just giving it a bit of a steam."

"Thank you, Anna. We'll manage from here."

"Very well, sir," Anna said, scurrying from the room, but not before sending a little grin in Maria's direction.

"A white dress?" Maria giggled. "You bought me a _white_ dress?"

"In case you've forgotten, our _daughters_ are attending this wedding," he said grimly. "Let's not give them any ideas. Now come on. We haven't got much time." He was already stripping off her dress, working with focused efficiency. Maria would have stopped to tease him about his well-honed undressing skills, but she had a question she didn't want to forget, and he had promised to answer any question she asked.

"Georg?"

"What is it? These shoes won't do. Step out of them, will you?"

"About Agathe. Did you talk about such things with her? About love and everything?"

"No," he said distractedly. "Hands up in the air now." He dropped the dress over her head, coaxing her arms through the sleeves and smoothing the full skirt down over her knees.

"You didn't?"

From behind her, she heard him heave a sigh.

"Maria, darling, you must remember that I wasn't left alone with Agathe for more than a minute until after we were engaged, and we were quite heavily chaperoned right up until the wedding. We had nothing to do _except_ talk, which made things less _dramatic,_ somehow. You and I – we seem to have rushed right into the wedding night without the courtship."

"Oh," Maria felt a little stab of misgiving, "Do you wish that we had had a proper courtship?"

"Not unless you do. Do you regret it?"

"That depends," she countered. "Do you?"

"I wouldn't change a thing that's happened between us, no. And anyway, it doesn't matter whether I do or I don't, because we haven't got time for a proper courtship. Another few days," he grunted, tugging the zipper upward, "and this dress isn't going to fit you anymore. I doubt I could keep my hands off of you long enough for a proper courtship. I can't even think straight in your company. Another mark against me."

He dove into the closet and produced a different pair of shoes.

"These will do. On they go," he commanded, and then he steered her to the large standing mirror and stood behind her, dragging a hairbrush through her curls.

"Georg?"

"Hm?"

"I know you think that I was always running away, but I wasn't," she said slowly, "not exactly. I think it's more that I was searching for a reason to _stay._ "

Maria's search had taken her from the warmth of her mother's arms, to her uncle's farm, to Nonnberg Abbey. Sweeping seven children up in its wake, it had led her through a gilded ballroom, dumped her into a mountain lake and danced her across an elegant garden. After a brief return to Nonnberg, it had taken her deep into an Italian forest, and then to a seaside hotel where the ocean's roar could be heard from every window. It had led her back into the forest, climbing cliffs, crossing ravines and swimming in secret ponds, and then to Paris, before depositing her deep in the frigid English countryside, where she had found her reason to stay in a tiny, dimly lit, black-and-white tiled toilet.

"Oh, my love."

In the mirror's reflection, she could see the understanding spread across his face, and then he spun her around and clasped her to him, so tightly she nearly couldn't breathe, and buried his head in the curve of her neck. "I am so sorry, Maria," he murmured. "I tried to tell you, darling, honestly, I did. What a coward I've been!"

She rolled her eyes at the very idea. Georg von Trapp a coward?

"I have no reason to expect it," he continued, "but I hope you can forgive me. For the first wedding, and that miserable wedding night, and the waterfall, and the cave, and last night, and oh, God, the night before that, the way I -"

"There is nothing to forgive," she insisted. "I ought to have been paying closer attention to _you_. And you _definitely_ shouldn't apologize for the night before last!"

"Would you please stop being so damned forgiving and let me apologize? You're not the only one who needs a firm hand, you know," he released her with a wink.

Maria was pondering that wink when there was a knock at the door.

"Father? Grandfather sent me up here. He says it's nearly time to leave."

"O-ho, is that my best man? Come in, Friedrich. I've got to go see about the cars, if you can make sure your Fraulein gets herself downstairs in one piece. Oh, and," Georg dug into his pocket and produced a small black velvet pouch, "here are the rings. Hold onto them for me, Friedrich, won't you?"

As soon as Georg was safely out of sight, Maria snatched the little bag away from Friedrich and emptied its contents into her palm. Two shining gold rings, one big, one small. There was something about the smaller one, something that required closer inspection-

"Friedrich! You give those back to me!"

"Not a chance," her son – her _son_ – said cheerfully, stuffing the rings and the bag into his pocket. "I'm in charge of them until the wedding. Are you ready, Fraulein Maria?" He corrected himself with a shy smile, "I mean, Mother?"

Maria tucked her arm in Friedrich's and let him lead her to the gallery and down the stairway. When they reached the landing, she looked down, her eyes sorting through the crowd - the Whiteheads, a pack of servants, the other children – until she found her Captain. He was preoccupied by arrangements, directing the children into the cars, glancing impatiently at his watch.

"Here we are, Father," Friedrich announced.

When he looked up, his face broke into a smile.

"Ready, Fraulein?" he asked.

"I'm ready, Captain," she answered.

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

 **Sorry this was so long, but I think it's time to put my readers out of their misery. Hopefully the new year's holiday is giving you some reading time.**

 **So this is more or less the end, although there will be a brief end-tying chapter. Thank you for the good wishes upon my major life transition, which is unfolding as well as can be expected. And thank you for reading my story. While I hope you enjoyed the review holiday, I do treasure the reviews many of you left and at this point, if you haven't left one yet, I'd love to hear what you thought. I'll get the disclaimer out of the way – I don't own TSOM or anything about it, I just do this for love – and now you can read the rest of this self-indulgent A/N or just wait for the last chapter in a week or so.**

 **When I'm writing a long story like this, I simply disappear into it like a woman obsessed, thinking of it while I'm driving, falling asleep, doing the dishes, whatever. As the end approaches, it's very hard for me to say goodbye, and one of the ways I process that grief is to reflect on what got the story started in the first place. For example, I wrote a long story called "The Widow" which sprang from a single mental image: a young woman in a floaty, flowery summer dress, standing on a dock under a blazing sun, talking to the grizzled captain of a large red sailboat. How did they get there and what happens next?**

 _ **This s**_ **tory had its origins in several circumstances. One, I thought I had gotten all my M rated writing out of my system after "Nothing Like a Yesterday," but I hadn't, and I wanted to write more of that sort of thing. In particular, I liked the idea of what it means and doesn't mean to leave someone "untouched," a term for virginity used so often in the trashy Regency romances I adore. Two, I always wanted to write a marriage of convenience story. I'm not sure if this story got that out of my system, although it was so tedious creating the circumstances that I'm not sure I'll do it again any time soon. Three, I always love me some rakish Georg, but I started to think about a "flip," in which Georg has abandoned his debauched ways, only to realize, to his dismay, that he has created an equally wicked reprobate in Maria. Four, I have a small interest in the 50 Shades fandom, which I won't ever write for, and doesn't really fit with M &G, but I thought I'd at least give it a try in Chapter 21. **

**Along the way, I seem to have written a defense of traditional courtship, which was not my intent, and does not reflect my personal beliefs, but just goes to show you that when you write a story, the characters have minds of their own and don't always stop to consult with you.**

 **I had NO idea this story would end up being so long; one of the things I like about writing fanfiction is that you don't have to bow to the whims of an editor, but can go on at as much length as you like!**

 **I do have the seeds for another story in my brain, but after I finish this one, I want to spend some time on Proboards and to leave some badly-overdue reviews, so for now, I will just say so long, farewell, and best wishes for 2019.**


	24. Epilogue: With My Heart As With A Hand

**EPILOGUE: WITH MY HEART AS WITH A HAND**

Now they lay together in a silver spill of moonlight. All around them, the night was so still that Georg imagined he could hear their two hearts, beating in unison.

There had been no question of spending their wedding night away from the children, not on Christmas Eve. After Boxing Day, though, he planned to take his bride to Scotland, where the Whiteheads owned a hunting lodge tucked deep into the countryside. His mouth curled into a smile at the thought of what might happen between the two of them there, for he hadn't been entirely forthcoming when he'd bragged of having taught her _everything_.

For tonight, however, it had been enough for Georg to make love to his wife, simply, tenderly, as though it were the first time. Which, in a way, it was.

"I love you," he told her, for possibly the hundredth time that day, although he would never tire of her ready response.

"Oh, I love you too, Georg, I _do_."

"I was quite certain I'd told you along the way, you know. In between risking my life to rescue you from a sausage vendor and facing down a snake."

"It was _me_ who faced down the snake," Maria reminded him, and they shared a laugh. "I still don't understand what took you so long," she said reproachfully. "Especially if you had in mind to marry me again all along!"

"Ah, but I was neither so clever nor so enterprising as that. No, that was a last minute improvisation, thanks to Mathilde. After a good dressing down from her, the only thing I wished for was the chance to start all over again, from the very beginning," he shrugged, "and then it was obvious what had to be done."

He trailed his fingers idly along the soft skin of her shoulders, let his fingers tangle in her wild, bright curls.

"Maria?"

"Hm?"

"What was it that made you come back?"

"Back?"

"That day in the hotel. I wanted you to come with me to France, but I couldn't – I just _couldn't,_ you see, not quite yet-"

She gave a low murmur of understanding.

"You said that you weren't going to wait around for me to break your heart, that Elsa had warned you about that, and then you left. At first I was certain you'd change your mind, but as the hours went by, I began to lose hope. I sent up your things, and then I waited. For hours, at least it seemed that way. Leo came and went, warning me that the Germans were closing in. I was beginning to think that I'd have to leave you behind, and that I'd never see you again. And then," he paused to clear his throat, "you came back. Why did you?"

"Oh! Well! I'll have to think about that one." She scrambled to a sitting position and gazed into the distance, trying to remember. "I think – I think it was something in a book."

"A book?"

"Y-yes. When you sent up my money, and that letter, you passed along three books you'd bought earlier in the day, remember? Poetry, of course. At least the one in German was."

"Ah. Right. A volume of Rilke's work."

"There was a poem about love in there-"

"That's all Rilke ever wrote about. He once said that for one human being to love another is perhaps the most difficult of our tasks, that everything else is mere preparation. Or something like that."

Maria was biting her lip in concertation, as though she were trying to summon the page in front of her.

"This one poem," she said slowly, "it was about the kind of love that lasts forever, even if it has to change shape. Even if the person you love dies," she sent a sad smile his way, "or goes far away, or can't love you back, you don't stop loving them, you just love them differently. Those women – well, that was the only thing you had to give, so I thought that was what I would have to accept, and all I would give you in return. Even though you thought I only had a silly crush on you, even though you said I'd forget all about you, I knew I never would."

"If you thought I would never love you, then why did you come with me?"

"Honestly? I mostly tried not think too much about what would happen after Paris. But there was also Leo."

"Leo?"

"You were like Leo, pinned. I couldn't just leave you there, could I? Not when I had my heart set on you." Maria's blue eyes burned with emotion. "Does that sound pathetic?"

"No." Relief and gratitude for her perseverance filled his heart. "No, it sounds determined."

"I knew that one way or the other, I was never going to stop loving you, not for the rest of my life," she said contentedly, stretching her arm out before her so she could admire the gold band that glowed against her pale hand.

Georg began to laugh.

"With my heart as with a hand," he chortled.

"What are you talking about, Georg?"

"Give me your hand," he gestured.

"Hold on! What are you _doing?_ " she protested as he tugged the ring from her finger and tilted it under the moonlight so she could see the engraving within.

"With my heart as with a hand," he said. "It's a line from the same poem. And, as it happens, the same line I chose for the engraving."

"Do you know the whole poem?" she asked, as he slid the ring back on her finger.

"Do I know the whole poem," Georg scoffed. "What do you think? Come on, now," he beckoned her back into his arms, and when she lay against him, her head tucked under his chin, he began.

" _Extinguish my eyes, I'll go on seeing you._

 _Seal my ears, I'll go on hearing you._

 _And without feet I can make my way to you,_

 _without a mouth I can swear your name._

 _Break off my arms, I'll take hold of you_

 _With-_

He had to stop and take a steadying breath before continuing.

 _With my heart as with a hand._

 _Stop my heart, and my brain will start to beat._

 _And if you consume my brain with fire,_

 _I'll feel you burn in every drop of my blood."_

He felt the shape of Maria's smile against his shoulder. Within moments, she had relaxed into sleep. The room filled with peaceful silence. And then Georg let the simple truth of her – her weight on his chest, the brush of her soft hair against his skin, the even sound of her breath - carry him into sleep as well.

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 **Thank you for reading my story. I don't own anything about The Sound of Music, I do this for love.**


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